


The Long Leash: Broken Doll

by Ryoko21



Series: The Long Leash [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Clones, Cock & Ball Torture, Enemas, Explicit Sexual Content, Flogging, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Medical Procedures, Oral Sex, Outer Space, Sex Toys, Sexual Lessons, Sexual Slavery, Sickfic, Slavery, Spanking, Spies & Secret Agents, Threesome - M/M/M, ball slapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 122,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5333078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryoko21/pseuds/Ryoko21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While working undercover in a human-trafficking ring known as The Long Leash, Ezekiel Price tries to balance his relationship with combat-asset Zero while still maintaining his cover as an Owner. Things only get more complicated when he picks up a second asset; a sickly, former-domestic slave who tries to befriend Zero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, a lot of things have been happening lately. I'm now on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ryoko21Fiction) if you'd like to follow me, or you can always find me on [Livejournal](http://ryoko21.livejournal.com/) if you want alerts on what I'm doing. I've also started my own [Website](http://ryoko21.weebly.com/) so please jump over. I do a lot of reviews of other free, M/M, original fiction, plus more of my writing work and what's going on in my life. If you get a chance, please check it out or follow me!
> 
> IntrepidEm is an awesome beta. I have to thank her again. I know her life has been crazy hectic lately, and I hope everything goes well for her. All my love and support.
> 
> If I haven't said it enough, please please let me know what you think of this fic. Kudos are great, comments are even better. Knowing people like this fic is really what keeps me motivated to write it, and of course I take any helpful criticism to heart and try to adapt. Thank you for your support! Hope you like it!

                I let Zero dock the jump-ship into Red Seven, after using a gravity tether to keep my main ship orbiting the satellite. I’ve let him essentially take over piloting the ship in the last few days, and he’s proven himself more than capable. He seems to like piloting the jump-ship that we use to bridge the space between where our ship is held in a gravity tether and where the hanger is waiting for us. Zero is calming, finally, and I can see the steadiness in his features and the way he flawlessly maneuvers the ship into the hanger. He doesn’t even show a tremor of nervousness as he follows me out of the hatch and into the docking bay. I hope – I can only hope – that he’s finally starting to feel confident in me, in my abilities and my commitment to keeping him.

                This isn’t my first trip to Red Seven, but I’ve never been to this section. The iconic name comes from the fact that Red Seven is an individual satellite with a poly-synthetic red exterior. The Seven stands for the seven arms that branch out from the satellite base. While the satellite base contains housing for the staff and the general population of the satellite, each of the arms holds different aspects of the casino. Three of the arms are dedicated to different gambling establishments, ranging from cheaper and more family-friendly to a high-end section with nude waitresses. Two arms focus strictly on entertainment, with shopping establishments and a variety of shows.

                One arm is dedicated to legal prostitution, a trade that is strictly monitored by the Department for any coercive activities. I spent a bit of time there, posing with the men and women who work as actual prostitutes while I tried to get information about a weapons smuggler. I hadn’t seen anything that led me to believe that any of the prostitutes were there against their will.

                Unsurprisingly, we’re told to dock in the seventh arm, which I’ve never been in. I was told that it was dedicated to maintenance and storage. Obviously, I should have investigated more closely.

                The docking bay that we’ve been guided to is a private port, just large enough for a single ship. It’s far more exclusive than entering through the main gates, and Zero and I won’t have to deal with the onslaught of noise and people that come through the main entrance. Until we had neared Red Seven and had been messaged to inform us of our docking coordinates, I wasn’t even sure they would know who I was. I’d been more concerned that I wouldn’t be able to find an access point to the Leash network here, that I’d fail in finding an asset simply because I couldn’t find the person that I needed to ask about them. The fact that the trainer on Red Seven had known who I was, even from my ship alone, is just as surprising and twice as concerning. Either they keep an open record of owners between Leash operations, or my owner’s key let them know my identity and proximity. I can’t say which is more likely.

                When we exit my ship, we find ourselves in a small, private docking bay. As I’d requested earlier, there’s a packet of clothing waiting by the door, and Zero changes with no concerns about modesty, fully naked in our private docking bay. Again, I wish I’d made the trip to purchase clothes actually happen, but between research into The Leash and my work trying to get Zero accustomed to his new lifestyle, time just slipped away. Zero never complained or even seemed particularly aware that his near-constant nudity was at all abnormal, so it hadn’t seemed like much of an issue. What had seemed like a bit of a problem was the idea of taking Zero into a public place while trying to conceal his status as an illegal slave. Even his way of talking would probably be a red flag that something is amiss.

                Zero dresses, and it’s not ideal. I ordered dress pants and a white button-down by giving an on-site store Zero’s measurement, but it’s an inexact science. The button-down is too tight along the shoulder and billows at his narrow waist. The pants are still just a smidge too long, and the cut of them isn’t what I would have chosen for Zero had I seen it on him first. There’s a set of socks and shoes as well, and assembled together the whole thing looks like a picture that’s hanging on a tilt by the slightest, most maddening degree. It’s not awful, but it’s certainly more askew than I’m comfortable with.

                I sigh and let my frustration go. There’s nothing to be done about it now. I’m thankful that I only ordered the one set of clothes instead of multiples. Ideally, I’ll be able to take Zero myself to get a wardrobe while we’re here. Or at least a few sets of clothes. I can’t imagine the stores here will satisfy my exacting tastes, but they’ll have to do for the moment.

                Zero, fully dressed, falls into step behind me. His clothes have a two-fold purpose, both to keep him from standing out and to conceal the flat, six-inch blade that I hand to him and he tucks unobtrusively into his shoe. After my last interaction with an Owner, I make sure to have both of us armed. Zero has a knife made of a nearly-undetectable substance, and I’ve got a small pulse-gun hidden under my vest.

                I’m dressed in a casual suit with a matching navy blue vest and pants, along with a long-sleeved white button-down and black leather shoes. Where Zero’s outfit is fairly standard, mine is designed to show style, taste, and budget. I need these people to take one look at me and understand that I’m not playing around.

                Overall, we probably look more like a businessman and his assistant than a pair of gamblers, but neither of us would stand out amongst the slot machine and gambling tables that I remembered from my last visit to Red Seven. I take a last look at him, straighten the collar of his top, and turn to our exit. There’s a keypad next to the door, and I hold my owner’s key up to it on the off chance that it might function as a literal key as well as a metaphorical one. As I’d hoped, the door makes a click as it unlocks for me.

                “Is it always that easy?” I ask Zero. He looks passive, standing calmly behind me, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. He might not be nervous, but he’s also not as unaffected as I had assumed. I know that Zero doesn’t like being in new situations, where things could turn violent at any moment. I see his hand settle at his hip, where I’ve let him hide a blade in the lining of his pants.

                “I wouldn’t know,” he responds. “My last owner was only concerned about his business. He rarely socialized with other owners, and he never took me to any of their locations. Other than a couple pleasure assets that he kept for the status they gave him, I don’t think he had any interactions with the Leash.”

                “It’s odd, isn’t it? That he only had one combat asset?”

                Zero gives me a grin that’s just a bit feral.

                “He only needed one.”

                “Ah,” I respond with a smile. Now that I’ve seen Zero fight, I don’t doubt that. I may have taken Zero’s combat skills lightly before because of his stature and his health, but seeing him fight Petir’s assets gave me an entirely different view on him.

                I turn my attention back to the door. I’m stalling, and I know it. What will I find on the other side of this gateway? Will it be a dungeon-style prison, the walls lined with helpless, bloody victims? Or will it be filled with men in metal cages, half-starved and frightened? Will I be able to ignore their pain to fulfill my mission? I’m not sure. If I try to rescue this group, I’ll be essentially executing Zero and myself, while leaving the slaves in other locations to their fate. But I don’t know if I have the resolve to ignore that kind of pain.

                Zero steps up behind me, close enough that I can feel the fabric of his shirt against mine.

                “We should go,” he says quietly. He’s right. Staying here is only going to attract suspicion. I take a breath, firm my resolve, and step through the door.

                I’m startled, but not in the way I had imagined. Where I had expected something dark and macabre, the area I see is bright and tasteful. The floor appears to be white marble, the walls in pale whites and tans. The room is large, with a high ceiling and artificial sunlight that gives the impression that we’re outside rather than in. The décor seems to have Grecian inspiration, and there are several large pillars and two oversized fountains. Lush plants spill from their containers in various locations around the room, most of them dotted with brightly colored flowers.

                There’s a man there to meet us, and I can tell from his bearing that he’s an owner, not an asset. He’s tall and lean, with black hair and green eyes. His clothes are gray, a long-sleeve buttoned top that comes down to his hip and matching gray slacks. It’s not business dress, but it looks stylish – a mix of modern taste and classical traditions. It melds with the look of this area, as though the person who designed this place also designed this man’s wardrobe to match.

                His eyes come to my face as we enter, and flick only for a moment at Zero before returning to me. Those eyes are bright with intelligence. His face has almost a fox-like narrowness. He reaches a hand out for mine, and his grip is firm as we shake. He smiles, and it seems open and relaxed, but I can’t shake the image of him as a predator. Perhaps I’m bias from my interactions with Petir.

                “You must be Ezekiel Price,” he says. “Welcome to The Oasis. I’m Reynard Chanson. If you’ll follow me, we can speak more privately. Please instruct your asset to follow.”

                If I hadn’t been sure that he’s the trainer before, then I’m convinced now. I nod to Zero, who wouldn’t be pleased to be left behind anyway, and follow Reynard away from the docking bay. As we walk through, I can tell that this area functions as a lobby. It’s meant to be impressive, but it serves no purpose other than allowing people to easily pass through into one of the many branching corridors. As we walk, a man in a business suit passes us and I have to stop myself from glancing at him. It wouldn’t be a good idea to appear too interested in the other owners at this point.

                I can’t help but turn my head and stare, however, when we pass a woman in the halls. I do a double-take, but she’s already passed us in the opposite direction. She’s dressed in expensive clothes, her hair done in a stylish up-do, and her heels are from an expensive brand. That’s all I can see before she opens a door and disappears. Is she an owner? Could my intel be wrong about the ban on female assets? Or… There’s the slight possibility she isn’t a woman at all, but it’s not likely. I’ve had enough experience with disguises and cross-gender that I can usually tell one from the other.

                I pull my attention back, but I’m too late. Reynard is watching me with a knowing look in his eyes. He saw me staring, and at least thinks he knows why. But his eyes only pause on me for a moment, and then he’s looking ahead again.

                Reynard leads us to a conference room. It’s in similar style to the lobby, but much smaller and with dark blue rugs on the floor. There’s a small mahogany table with two simple but tasteful chairs, and Reynard takes a seat in one and gestures for me to take the other. As I sit, Zero kneels seamlessly beside my chair. His attire makes it a bit difficult for him to assume the traditional pose for a pleasure asset. The shirt pulls taunt across his chest as he clasps his hands behind his back and the pants bunch as he kneels, but the fabric allows the movement. He leans back and puts his clasped hands behind him, touching the floor between his feet. It’s an uncomfortable position, but I know that Zero will hold it for as long as I ask.

                Reynard watches Zero’s display of submission without comment or expression. It takes Zero only a moment to settle, but Reynard watches him the whole time, his eyes sharp and calculating. Finally, his attention turns back to me and he smiles.

                “This is normally what I do with new owners who come to me for their first meeting,” he explains, and his voice is low and soothing. He probably intends it to be that way. “I thought perhaps we should meet like this since it seems like you might need some tips.” His hand comes to his cheek, and he stares at me like I’m a particularly pleasant puzzle. “I’m sure you’re aware that there are four dealers in the Leash right now. You didn’t come to me for your orientation, and from the way you acted with the woman in the hall I can assume that you didn’t have Scarlett. So by deduction I have to assume that you had Finn.”

                Well, at least that’s all he gathered from the way I stared at the woman in the hall. And having the information that women can be owners – can apparently be dealers as well – is helpful if not terribly enlightening. I still don’t know – does this mean there are female assets as well? But I suppose I can’t ask that so brazenly. Instead, I smile and say, “I’m sorry, that’s not correct.”

                His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “So _Petir_ trained you?” He throws his head back and laughs. “No wonder you haven’t got half an idea what you’re doing! Who the hell thought Petir could handle an orientation? He probably tried to sell you something ten minutes in!”

                “Right before he ordered his assets to assault mine,” I confirm. Reynard rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he doubts my story. More like he can’t believe Petir’s behavior.

                “No wonder your boy is carrying a knife,” Reynard says with a smile. Damn. They must have a more sophisticated detection system than I’d been expecting. Perhaps in the lobby? I didn’t even see it when we went through.

                “You can understand my concern, considering that I was attacked on my own ship. I’m a lot more vulnerable here, in your territory. I thought I should be cautious.”

                Reynard mulls this over for a moment, his head cocked to the side and his eyes taking in my features. I get the feeling that I’m being assessed, and his curious scrutiny only adds to his already foxlike features. Finally, his gaze shifts past me, falling on Zero’s prone form beside my chair.

                “So tell me,” he says, his voice smooth and inquisitive, “why it is that you’ve brought an armed combat asset into my home and put him in the pose of a pleasure asset?”

                “You already know why he’s armed,” I explain, “and if you’ve detected his blade, then you’re aware of the pulse gun under my shirt.” Reynard nods and I’m not surprised. If the synthetic material of Zero’s blade showed up on their scans, then I had no hope of hiding the palm-sized pulse gun that’s in a concealed pocket. It isn’t a lethal weapon, but it can stun well enough to buy us some time if we get into trouble. If I’m able to keep it, now that it’s been discovered.

                “As for Zero being a combat asset,” I continue, “that’s something I was hoping you could help me with. Petir told me that I could change his designation for a significant fee, but we parted on… shall we say… less than friendly terms? There wasn’t time to discuss the transaction further.”

                “It’s not too large of a fee,” Reynard says with a shrug. “It’s honestly fairly common for assets to change designations at least once, although the change is almost always between similar types. Combat assets and covert assets have a lot of overlap in their skillsets, you see, so it’s not uncommon for them to switch back and forth. The same is true of pleasure slaves and domestic ones. It’s extremely rare to be changed from a combat to a pleasure designation, but it’s not unheard of or impossible. Can I assume that Petir was interested in buying your slave? That, perhaps, he was trying to convince you to sell at a lower price?”

                “That would be an accurate assumption,” I respond. “Petir wasn’t very happy when I said that I wouldn’t sell to him, and that I had no interest in the two assets he tried to sell me.”

                “You’re lucky you were so careful. Petir is a swindler. I’m not sure how he ever got established as a seller in this business. If his behavior is as deplorable as you’ve said, it’s likely that he won’t continue for much longer.”

                “The Leash will kick him out?” I wonder.

                “Oh no,” Reynard says with a sly smile. “He’ll simply disappear one day. You know how these things are.” I nod my head, because I’m probably more aware than even Reynard is of how easily a person can disappear into the dark underbelly of our society. “Might cause a bit of a power struggle with his underlings, I suppose. Someone will need to take over The Cage.”

                “The Cage?” I wonder, and he gets an amused expression.

                “Oh yes, Petir doesn’t like that name. I’d forgotten. Each of the seller’s domains have a sort of nick-name. The Oasis here at Red Seven, dealing primarily in pleasure assets. Petir runs The Cage at Bloodsports Arena and exclusively sells combat assets. There are two other sellers dealing in covert and domestic assets – Scarlett’s Nest and Finn’s Hearth. The Leash organization sells most of the scholarly assets, since they’re more expensive and difficult to train. Speaking of selling assets, did Petir ever mention collaring your asset?”

                “No, he didn’t. What would I need a collar for? He’s already obedient.”

                “It’s not for the slave, actually, it’s for your benefit. It lets other owners know if your asset is on the market, privately owned, or entering the competition.”

                “How so?”

                “Assets with green collars are for sale. You can feel free to speak with them or touch them, as long as there’s no sexual conduct. Assets with black collars are privately owned and not for sale. They should not be touched by another owner and spoken to only when necessary to perform their duties. Assets with red collars have been entered in this year’s Competition, and should be treated as a costly, valuable investment. Assets with a purple collar belong to the Leash. You probably won’t run in to many of those, but they can generally be treated the same as black-collared assets.”

                “Can I purchase a set of collars while I’m here?” I ask. It would be a nice protection for Zero, so that other owners would not accost him. Reynard smiles, obviously pleased.

                “Of course. You might want to get as many as you’ll need, in case you make a purchase from another owner. How many should I give you?”

                “Well, I suppose I should get a full set of six. Can I get all three colors?” I hope to imply that I’m willing to buy and sell both, when in fact I’m hoping not to have to sell at all. And, of course, I’ll need the red ones for when I enter my team into the Competition.

                “Planning to take on the full amount of assets, are we?” Reynard asks, his eyes narrowing with interest. Damn. I hadn’t meant to reveal that much. “You’re not planning on entering the full five in the competition, are you?”

                “Mm,” I say noncommittally, “I haven’t really decided. I’d like to have a range of talents in my assets, but I’m not sure about entering them in the competition. I mean, Zero here would make a strong combat asset, or so I’ve heard,” I say, and then glance at Reynard, as if deferring to his experience. He nods slightly, in a similarly noncommittal way. “But then I’ve also heard that the pre-game competitions are a bit risky. I’d hate to have him too damaged to be of use to me.” Zero is still kneeling beside my chair, and reach out to stroke my hand down the side of Zero’s face, letting my fingers rest at his neck. I can feel slight tremors running through his body. The position is not a pleasant one to hold, but Zero doesn’t let his discomfort show.

                “He doesn’t have to stay in that position,” Reynard tells me, his eyes once again skimming over Zero with curiosity. “It’s mostly to show respect, or to present the asset for scrutiny. If you give him the command to relax, he can simply kneel without bending.”

                I nod gratefully and tell Zero, “Go ahead and relax. You did well.”

                Zero relaxes into a standard kneel, and I see him roll his shoulders just a bit as he brings his arms to the front. Reynard says, “He responds very well to you. I’d like to see how you handle him more intimately.”

                “Another time, perhaps? Zero has just recently come off of suppressants. I’m still training him sexually.”

                Reynard’s face shows open surprise, and he takes another glance at Zero. “You took him off of his suppressants?”

                “Well, that implies more of a decision than I actually made,” I say with a chuckle, trying to keep the conversation light. “More like, I wasn’t aware he was on them, and then I didn’t know where to get more?” Of course, I wouldn’t have put Zero back on suppressants even if I had known, but I don’t want to reveal that to Reynard at this point.

                “I’ll assume Petir didn’t offer you any,” Reynard says, and actually rubs his temples in annoyance. “I can offer you a steady supply, but by this point they’re probably fully out of his system. Putting him back on will cause side-effects, and they’ll be less effective now that he’s built up a tolerance.”

                “I think he’s fine without them. As a pleasure asset, I’d prefer that he can get an erection so that I have the option to play with him there as well.”

                Reynard nods, although I can’t tell if it’s actually agreement or simply an acknowledgement of my decision.

                “I should ask you, since you seem interested in pleasure assets, if you prefer women for lovers?” he asks, which is a question I was hoping he’d pose. I need to know if they have captive women held somewhere else, but Reynard continues before I can answer. “Of course, we can’t actually get you a female asset.” He gives me an enigmatic smile again. “But we can provide you with something close. You’ll never know the difference.”

                And that… poses a stomach-churning set of options that I don’t really want to think about. Safe to say, I’m confident that there’s no trafficking of women in this business. The reason, though, is still a bit of a mystery. Do they not want to deal with unwanted pregnancies? That seems like a bit of a stretch, since contraception is nearly foolproof now and they certainly have the ability to stop an unwanted birth through legal or illegal means. Plus, there’s the fact that females can be owners, just not assets. Perhaps male assets are simply easier to traffic? I’d like to know, but I can’t show too much interest in the inner workings of The Leash. Not in front of someone as perceptive as Reynard.

                “No, thank you,” I tell him, “I’m fine with either gender.”

                “Most people don’t mind the male slaves.” And that’s not surprising, considering most people in this era are fully bi-sexual, with only a rare few fully homosexual or heterosexual individuals. “If you’re interested in something more short-term, I can recommend our ladies on the other side of the complex, who would be more than happy to satisfy you.” That would be the legal prostitution that happens in another wing of the complex.

                “I’m more interested in purchasing another asset.”

                He smiles again. Apparently, that was the correct answer.

                “We have a range of males here for you to choose from. It’s mostly pleasure assets, although I do have a couple that are trained as domestics as well. You’ll see my assets with green collars, and we’ve tagged them all with numbers for your convenience. Now, you can sample the product before purchasing,” he tells me, and I can tell that he’s talking about sex, “but you’ll have to pay a fee if you don’t end up purchasing that asset. My assets are available for single-night services, as well, or for multi-night rentals if you’re having an event and would like several assets for entertainment.”

                So the assets are for sale, but are also available for prostitution. I have to assume that’s a business decision, to keep the investment profitable even before it’s sold.

                “I’m definitely looking for an asset to purchase. I’ve only got one at the moment, and I’d really like a complimentary pair.”

                “We’ve got all colors and shapes. I’m sure you can find something that looks nice next to your zero. Perhaps another oriental? Or another clone?”

                There’s a quiet knock at the door, and then it opens and a brown-haired asset peeks his head in. Reynard gestures, and the boy enters clutching a small box. When the boy enters, I can see that he’s young, early 20’s at most. He’s wearing a green ring around his neck, with a number tag dangling from it like a dog license. His clothes are white, but they’re similar to Reynard’s – long sleeve top in what looks like cotton fabric, white slacks, and white slippers. The boy approaches us, but when his eyes settle on Zero he hesitates and takes a visible step backwards, before recovering. I can see him watching Zero from the corner of his eye as he approaches us. When he gets close to Reynard, he kneels and sets the box on the floor before putting his hands behind him and arching his back.

                “You may relax and present Master Price with his items,” Reynard says. I’m surprised when the boy turns to me and opens the lid of the box. Inside are the collars I’d asked for – six green, six black, and five red. I take out a black one and run my fingers over it. The metal is smooth and lightweight, with just a hint of shine to it. There’s a barely-noticeable clasp at the back, which I open easily. When closed, the metal is rigid, but once opened it bends enough to be placed around an asset’s neck.

                I cast a quizzical glance at Reynard. I only told him about needing the collars moments ago, and he hasn’t left the room or used a communication device since them. So how…?

                Reynard gives me an open grin, then flicks his eyes to the corner of the room. There’s a camera lens there, and it’s not obvious but it isn’t actually hidden either. I didn’t so much miss it as I hadn’t been looking for it. Places like this almost always have surveillance, so I’d ignored it as part of the general décor. I hadn’t anticipated that it would be used to satisfy my whims almost instantly.

                Reynard laughs openly at my look of dawning comprehension, then says, “I’ll add the fee for the collars to the bill, and have my asset place them on your ship. I’ll assume you’d like to keep that one out?”

                “Yes,” I respond, and lean over quickly to fasten it around Zero’s neck. There’s enough room to fit my fingertips between the collar and Zero’s neck, and I hear the locking mechanism fasten with a click. I find the clasp with my fingers and open it quickly, just to double check that I can, before refastening it. The circlet is thin, and Zero could easily hide the collar under his clothing if he wanted. Zero makes no move to adjust it, and I have to admit that it doesn’t look terribly out of place. If I didn’t know what it signified, I probably wouldn’t think twice about it.  

                “Well,” Reynard says as he rises to his feet, “I think I’ve taken up enough of your time. If you’ll head back through those doors, my asset will lead you to the Oasis pool. We usually showcase our assets poolside, where you can mingle with them and see if any interest you. If you see any assets here wearing a green collar, feel free to approach them. You can speak with them and touch them, however, as I’ve said,” he gives me a sly grin, “there is a fee to sample. We have private rooms that any of my assets will be happy to direct you to for a more private conversation.” He pauses for a moment, and his eyes give me an appraising look. There’s a hunger in his eyes that I’m used to, but I hadn’t expected it to appear here. I’ve spent half my life trying to attract sexual attention. I suppose it’s easier to turn on than turn off.

                Before I can decide how to react, the look is gone and he’s all business again. “If you feel like entering the pool, we have complimentary swimsuits or you can go nude. Please do not approach assets with any other color collar than green. If you have any consumption restrictions on your asset, please let my asset know so that we can avoid offering anything to him. Your asset will need to wear a collar at all times. Any purchases you make will be billed to your account as gambling losses. I enjoyed meeting with you, and I will see you again before you depart. Please, enjoy yourself.”

                And then he leaves, his feet padding away without making a sound. The he moves is graceful and swift, and it reminds me again of a slinking predator. One moment he’s in front of me, and the next moment he’s disappearing out the door.

                “Sir?” says the asset on the floor, still holding my box of collars as he gets to his feet. He smiles demurely before bowing his head. “Would you like to follow me, Owner Zeke?”

                “Of course,” I respond, and smile warmly as he flicks his eyes to my face. “Come, Zero,” I call as I move after the boy. Zero rises and follows wordlessly, his face in the same blank mask he’s worn since we arrived. I don’t like this closed-off aspect of him, but I suppose it’s better that he be apathetic than upset.

                The boy – whose collar is tagged as 74 – leads us back into the lobby area, then down a different hall. It seems like this complex is set up as a series of halls all reaching out in a circular pattern from this area. I hedge a guess that this main area and the central halls are ornately decorated for the owners who frequent here, but that the assets have a series of side-halls that connect these areas without bringing them into contact with the clientele. There’s no evidence of this, only the fact that I haven’t seen any assets in this area other than Zero and the boy leading us.

                It doesn’t escape me that the asset leading us keeps taking glances over his shoulder. At first I thought he was merely checking on me, but after the third time he does it I notice that he’s not looking at me, he’s looking at Zero. It becomes obvious, then, how the man is specifically keeping me in between Zero and him. Like Zero might attack at any moment, and keeping me closer to Zero might give the asset a moment to get away. It seems ludicrous, because I’m aware of how calm and even-tempered Zero usually is. However, I suppose I should have expected this kind of reaction based on the reputation of the zeros.

                The asset leads us to a door marked with the Roman numeral for two, and pauses to open the door and then bow to me. I hesitate a moment, uncertain of what I should do, before I precede him into the room. Zero trails behind me, and gives a knowing smirk when the asset steps away from him in fear. The expression is gone in the next second, but I catch it from the corner of my eye. I can’t say if I’m relieved or worried that Zero is amused by this treatment. I suppose it’s better than him being upset about it.

                “Please, let us know if there’s anything we can do for your comfort,” he says, then backs out of the doorway and leaves.


	2. The Oasis at Red Seven - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter would have been up earlier this week, but I've been BURIED in Christmas. I'm pretty much poor, so around the holidays I have to hand make a lot of the gifts I give. I'm actually a fairly good cook and pretty crafty, so it's not usually a problem, but my siblings decided they ALL wanted to do a gift exchange this year (including spouses) so that dropped six extra people onto my list. Then my husband's siblings want to do an exchange, adding an extra three to my list (two siblings and a spouse). So my idea of sewing everybody something went out the window (Ain't nobody got time for that!) and everybody's getting a custom T-Shirt and a box of chocolate dipped junk food. Luckily, JoAnne's takes returns of fabric as long as it hasn't been altered (although they didn't sound terribly pleased when I asked them about it!) I'm a total Grinch around Christmas, because it means so much extra work for me! Lol!
> 
> Oh! If you get a second, please check out [ Goodreads](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28066999-perfect-zero?from_search=true&search_version=service) and vote for The Long Leash! Thanks!

                The Oasis that I find inside is exactly what the name implies. It’s significantly hotter and more humid in this room, and it’s brightly lit by imitation sunlight. There’s a large pool of water in the center of the room, filling a conclave in the floor that’s made to look like a natural pool. It’s not deep enough for real swimming, coming only to the hip of one of its occupants, even at the deepest part. There are five assets in the water and a few dozen more around the room, all with various hair colors and skin tones. They range from completely nude to dressed in the same long-sleeves that the pervious asset wore. The ones in the water are mostly naked, with a few wearing white bottoms that reveal more than they cover. The same white marble-and-stone-pillars theme permeates this room, making it look like a temple from ancient times. Only the unchangeable reality of the limited space breaks the illusion, with walls where there should be rolling fields of grass.

                Along the outside of the pool, there’s a scattering of benches and small tables, all covered in thick, luxurious padding. Along the back I can see a table filled with food and drinks. There are several assets circling with trays full of food, offering it to the owners seated across the room. I let my eyes take in the other owners – this is my first glance at an owner who isn’t a trainer as well – but I don’t recognize any of them. I don’t let my eyes linger, just a long enough glance to see that they’re all male, each surrounded by four or five assets who are vying for their attention.

                There’s an edge of padding against the outside wall, and several assets with black collars are already seated there. It’s not a large leap of logic for me to assume that owned-assets are to wait here for their masters to finish. I motion for Zero to kneel along the wall, and he assumes the uncomfortable position of a pleasure asset. I glance at the other slaves, notice that they’re all curled in various positions, many of them talking quietly or eating snacks. I give Zero a command to relax before going to take a seat at an empty table.

                The green-collared men don’t descend upon me, not in so many words. As soon as I settle into the seat, there’s another person at the table with me, and I look up to see the smiling face of a slender, half-naked young man. The first thing I notice is the green ring around his throat, and the second is the way he leans in just a bit too close to be casually friendly. He’s got black hair that cascades in curly waves to his shoulders and deep, brown eyes. Another green-collared boy, this one brown-hair and blue eyed, a bit shorter and slimmer than the dark-haired asset, leans over his shoulder and grins at me. A third slave stands beside them, this one taller and more broad-shouldered. His hair is a sandy-blonde, with sun-kissed tan skin and blue eyes. Unlike the other two, who are wearing the skimpy-togas like many other assets, this one has opted for a piece of fabric that wraps around his hips, leaving his taunt abs exposed. He wears the same green collar, but unlike the two slim boys, this one is a bit more heavily muscled and masculine.

                It takes me perhaps a bit longer than it should, to realize that they’ve presented me with almost a full range of body-types and colorings, so that they can see what I gravitate toward. Or perhaps so I can peruse the range of wares being offered. Either way, it isn’t remotely the friendly and innocent gesture that it’s meant to seem like.

                I sit back and let them chat idly with me, answering questions about how I like it here and what I’m looking for. I notice that there are a few men in the room who are dressed more conservatively, like the one who’d led us here from the meeting with Reynard. It’s not until one of the assets at the table with me calls to one of the more-covered boys and politely demands a tray of fresh fruit and drinks that I realize the difference. The scantily-clad assets are being pushed at owners, draped all over them and obviously hoping to be sold, while the others are simply working as laborers. I can’t help but wonder what the difference is, but it’s easy to notice the hierarchy between them.

                I also take note of a few larger, muscular assets in black collars standing around the room. It isn’t hard to assume that they’re guards, although whether they protect the assets from the potential owners or the owners from the potential assets is unclear. The only thing that I can tell for sure is that they’re at the head of the hierarchy, glaring and sneering at the pleasure assets as they pass. I can’t help but wonder, “Is this why Zero was so opposed to being a pleasure asset?” But I wouldn’t allow that kind of behavior between my subordinates anyway.

                When the food and drink arrives, the boys get momentarily distracted. I take a second to subtly glance around the room. My eyes settle on Zero for a moment, but he’s kneeling with a cold look on his face. The other assets against the wall are leaned over and chatting in pairs and groups, smiling and laughing amicably. They all give Zero a wide berth, and I’m fairly certain my asset won’t attempt to change that.

                The other owners in the room, from what I can see, are socializing similarly to how I am with the assets at their tables. One has an asset on his lap, another owner has one kneeling at his feet. I try to form some kind of profile based on the five owners I can see in the room. Unfortunately, other than the fact that they’re all male, they have almost nothing in common. There are no similarities in age, weight, height, hair color, or appearance. I don’t recognize any of them at first glance either, and I don’t let my eyes linger. The only thing they do have in common is that most of them are aroused, although nothing overtly sexual is happening. I take that to mean that the assets can tease an owner and arouse him, but that most of the actual sex acts take place in the private rooms, where they can be assessed a proper fee.

                Less than an hour after sitting down with the assets, and I’m covered in an uncomfortable sheen of sweat. Most of my discomfort is from how hot and humid they keep the room, probably to encourage the swimmers. I think another part, though, is the interrogation I’m facing. Each of the assets is keenly interested in my life – What’s my ship like? What kind of business am I in? Where have I traveled recently? What do I like to do in my free time? Do I watch any good streams on the vid? The last question is one that they all seem the most eager to hear my answer. Unfortunately, I think it probably means that they all spend far too much time watching popular shows.

                I’ve long since given up trying to get information out of the men I’m talking to. Questions about their daily lives are answered in the vaguest ways possible. Their answers revolve mainly around the skills they’ve learned, streaming series that they enjoy watching, or the sports teams that they encourage. I can generally tell when I’m being purposefully misled, and unfortunately I don’t think this is the case. I think the boys have simply been trained, whether intentionally or through their environment, not to have much interest in the events of their own daily lives. They seem a bit like dolls, without the will be to truly invested in anything. I wonder if Reynard specifically looks for this trait to make more docile pleasure assets.

               By the time one of the boys suggests a swim, I’m almost ready to throw myself in the pool fully clothed. Partially to get out of the stifling heat, and partially to avoid all the tedious questions that I’ve been answering. When I give my assent, the boys all smile and strip quickly. I think about asking for a pair of shorts to swim in, but I’m comfortable with my body. It might even be a way to get noticed by the other owners without doing anything outlandish to get attention. I have to hide a smile of satisfaction when I take my nude form into the water: several of the other owners are openly staring at me. Perhaps it will be enough to get me an introduction to another owner.

                The water isn’t deep enough for this to be anything more than wading. Even the game that the assets are playing – it involves tossing a ball between different players, with no discernable rules or goals – seems more for show than for pleasure. The water feels good, but I can’t help remembering that Zero is still fully clothed and waiting for me in the heat. My interest in the game wanes fairly quickly, and I take my leave of the water. When my feet hit the dry stone, another asset in the white button-down top and matching cloth pants uniform rushes over to hand me a towel. I take it with a quiet “Thanks,” and head back to the table.

                At first I think one of the assets has already headed back to my table, but then I realize that I’ve left all four of them playing happily in the water. The man sitting at my table has light brown hair and blue eyes, and is dressed in stylish shorts and a sleeveless shirt. He’s handsome, and I catch a glimpse of the newest FastWrap Communicator on his wrist. I’m fairly certain that it hasn’t been released yet. The earring in his ear probably doubles as a headset. So I pretty easily peg him as a playboy from a rich family, hoping to make a name for himself since his family obviously doesn’t trust him with the family business. Or perhaps the business bores him? Either way, if he’s talking to me, there’s a reason for it. His eyes rake over me as I approach, assessing me much like I’m doing to him, although I’m doing my assessment while still drying my hair. When I move close enough to the table, he offers me his hand in greeting.

                “James Peterson. You must be new this year.”

                “I’m afraid so. Zeke Price,” I respond, and shake his hand before settling in a chair with my towel secured around my waist.

                “How are you liking it? Found an asset to take home yet?”

                “Mm,” I say noncommittally. “None have really caught my eye.”

                “These are the standard assets,” James tells me, and he’s got an air to him that speaks of ulterior motives, but not necessarily devious ones. “You can tell, because they’re all a bit vapid. He keeps the more expensive ones in the back, for serious clients. Rents them out a couple times, and if they’re good he sticks them in the Competition and turns a major profit. You’re better off getting a fresh asset and training it yourself than taking one of these home.”

                “You sound like a serious competitor,” I tease with a smile. There are a million questions buzzing in my head, but I know better than to seem too interested. I can’t arouse suspicion, especially not this early on. So I smile easily and keep the conversation light, even though I’d much prefer to slam his head against the table and demand answers.

                “I’ve taken a few top rankings in the pleasure category,” he says, and he attempts to make it sound modest, but I can tell that he’s trying to impress me. “I come here sometimes to size up the competition. Well, and to meet interesting people.” He gives me a wink. I smile like I’m flattered.

                “Got any tips, in case I decide to compete this year?”

                “Oh yeah,” he says with a laugh. “But most of them you’ll have to learn for yourself. Here’s a common rookie mistake for you: don’t enter every category on your first try.”

                “Why not?” I’m going to anyway, but I want to see what he has to say.

                “Because – and new guys do this every year – you end up putting out too much money between buying assets and sign-up fees. Even if you win – and that’s not terribly likely, but even then only the top spot pays out anything significant and only the top five pay at all – you barely break even with the prize money.”

                His face is earnest and his speech flows easily. It doesn’t seem like he’s misleading me. It seems more likely that he’s just being friendly. Still, his advice would only be sound if I were interested in making money from this game. Since I’m only concerned with meeting the owner, his advice doesn’t apply to me.

                Still, I smile and ask, “So what do you suggest instead?”

                “If I could do it again,” he says, and flashes me a charming smile, “I’d buy a bunch of assets from the same category, and then enter the best two.”

                “How do you know which ones are the best?”

                I can tell he likes the question, likes my interest. He grins and shifts closer in this seat.

                “Pleasure is a really hard category to guess who’s going to win. In combat and covert, it’s a fight, so you know that the best fighter will win. With scholarly and domestic, it’s a test of skills. But with pleasure, it’s just a show. You put your competition asset up there with another asset or a group of assets, and you have him show off what he can do. After that, you get told what place he comes in at. No scoring, no reasoning. Just one judge putting everybody in a random order. They say the Controller himself judges the pleasure competition.”

                And that’s a damn good piece of information to have. If I’m sure about it, I might be able to find him at the Competition instead of afterwards.

                James hesitates there, and I can tell he has something on his mind. His eyes scan my face. He smiles and says, “I have to ask, but you’re not the guy who brought in the zero, are you?”

                “Guilty as charged,” I admit, and he lets out a burst of laughter.

                “If I hadn’t just seen them, I’d say you’ve got balls of steel!”

                “Everyone’s so frightened of him,” I defend with a smile, “but he’s hardly as big as any of these other assets, and half as heavy as the guards.”

                “Size doesn’t mean anything, those zero bastards are mean!” James says with conviction, and takes a sip of his drink. “I once saw a zero walk through a level ten discipline to attack his owner. That’s why nobody dares to have them,” he says, but his eyes stray to Zero. I can see him thinking, see him wondering what I do to keep my asset so tame, and wondering if he could do the same. I see the moment when wonder turns to lust, and then he’s thinking about what it must feel like to fuck something that dangerous. And, suddenly, he wants one. And that’s exactly how I wanted him to feel.

                “I’m sure my zero must just have a better temperament than the rest,” I tell him, and he manages to bring his attention back to me.

                “Perhaps,” he says, smiling again. “I think I’ve taken about enough of your time,” he tells me. “I just wanted to stop over and say hi, and maybe invite you to my bar sometime? We have one weekend a month where we host a Leash-only event.” Ah, there it is. That ulterior motive I’d been suspecting. “It’d be a good chance for you to get used the Leash society, and a great opportunity for you to show off your asset.” Damn. So he actually wants Zero, he just needs me to come along to keep him under control. “It would give you an opportunity to try displaying him.”

                “Display?”

                “Owners come to the club to watch assets perform different sex-acts on their owner or each other. Sometimes they make requests, although it’s up to you which ones you accept. I’ll explain more if you decide to come, but it’s pretty similar to how the bondage clubs treat their subs.”

                I think about the clubs that I’ve been to, with the spotlight shining on a naked man while he sucks his master’s cock eagerly. Or how he whimpers and begs when he’s being flogged, his erection bobbing between his legs. I wonder if there’s any way I can subject Zero to that without scarring him. Could I possibly make him like it? But I can’t let James see my uncertainty, so I smile and feign interest.

                “That sounds entertaining. Could you send me the location?” I ask him, because as hesitant as I am to jump into these situations, I’m also more than ready to get this mission moving.

                “It’s already in your Key,” he says. Funny. I hadn’t known they did messages. “It was nice talking to you,” he says, and he’s already heading away from me. “I hope to see you again soon.”

                I call out similar platitudes as he retreats, and then take a big sip of the alcoholic drink on my table. Everything’s coming together, but things are happening so fast. I take a moment to just breathe and settle myself.

                When I’m finished with my moment, I glance over to check on Zero. I’m shocked to see that he has another asset sitting beside him, talking to him. The boy is wearing the same long-sleeve shirt and pants that I’ve come to associate with assets that aren’t being marketed as aggressively. He’s blonde and thin, perhaps a little under-weight, and I wonder if that’s what has kept him from being marketed with the others. His hair is a golden blonde color and his skin a pale, milky white color that resembles porcelain. The boy leans over to Zero to say something and I see Zero shake his head. When the boy backs away, I see Zero’s eyes give the boy an appraising glance. It’s the most interest I’ve seen Zero take in another asset since we got here.

                I find myself staring at the two. Zero is unsociable at best, and his reputation as a killer precedes him. And yet this asset has approached him, even gotten acknowledgement from him. It’s more than I’d expected from Zero so early in his training.

                It doesn’t last long, though. After a moment a few more words, the blonde boy rises and walks in the direction of the refreshments. When he leaves, I get a good look at his face, although he doesn’t catch me staring. My eyes go first to his throat, and I see the green ring around his neck and the numbers “103” on the tag there. My eyes drift up, and I see that his face has the same flawless porcelain skin of his body, with a small features and enticingly pink lips. His eyes are large and- ah. The color of them is so light that for a moment I think they might be blue, but on second inspection they are undoubtedly silver.

                Is that what it was? Something like clone solidarity, which enticed him to approach someone known to be an effective and lethal killer? But I can count four other boys in the room with silver eyes, and none of them have shown any interest in my asset.

                I lose track of him when he exits at the back of the room, but I don’t miss the way those eyes track the guards as he passes them, alert and cautious of them. He seems intelligent, or at least more aware of his surroundings than the other assets that flit around the room. He’s definitely a puzzle, and I find myself taking an extra moment to stare after him and wonder what his story is.

                My gaze goes back to Zero, and I find that he’s watching me, so I motion for him to approach and signal for him to kneel by my side. I offer him a drink from my glass, which he takes greedily. I can see the perspiration collecting in the fabric of his shirt’s collar and cuffs, and I resolve not to stay much longer. I feed Zero a piece of pineapple and feel a flutter of lust when he licks the juices from my fingers.

                “What was that boy saying to you?” I ask him gently. I don’t want to imply that either of them did anything wrong.

                “He asked if I’d like anything to eat or drink and told me that you hadn’t restricted my food intake so I could have whatever I liked.”

                “And?”

                “He offered to get it for me, but I turned him down. I… didn’t feel comfortable letting him handle my food.”

                Which, for Zero, translates to, “I thought he might poison me,” but honestly I’m surprised he talked to the asset at all. I’d like to ask Zero more questions, specifically if he’s alright in this heat, but there’s a chance that it might look like I’m showing him too much regard, so I give him another drink instead.

                “Anything else?” I ask him. They weren’t talking long, but it certainly seemed like more of an exchange than that.

                Zero shrugs. “He asked if I was enjoying myself. Said something about how nice the lighting is in this room. Meaningless chatter. I didn’t respond.” So then the boy was trying to be sociable with Zero. Well, as sociable as one can manage when speaking to my brick wall of an asset.

                “That’s fine,” I tell him, “Go back to the wall. We won’t be here much longer.”

                I’d probably be ready to leave already, but the blonde boy has caught my interest. I catch the attention of one of the assets and he approaches with a smile. He’s a brown-haired boy, with his body oiled and displayed enticingly with only a white piece of cloth draped around his hips.

                “There’s an asset that I’d like to inspect more closely. Could I have a private room?”

                “Of course, Owner Price. Which asset did you want?”

                “103 caught my eye. Is he available?”

                The asset blinks in surprise for a moment, his brow furrowing in confusion.

                “Are you sure it was 103, sir?”

                “Pale, blonde, silver eyes? I was pretty sure it said 103. Is that a problem?”

                “No!” he says quickly. “I just… um… didn’t realize he’d be down here. I’ll have him meet you at the room, and I’ll have someone lead you there. Was there anything else, Master Zeke?”

                “Actually, there is one other thing. Is there anywhere else that my asset could wait? He gets a little… testy when he’s overheated.”

                The poor boy’s eyes dart over to Zero and open wide. He takes an involuntary step back, even though Zero is kneeling placidly on the other side of the room. I have to smother a smirk. If these boys knew him like I do, would they still treat him like a rabid beast?

                “He could wait in the hall outside your room, sir. It’s cooler in the halls.”

                “That’s fine,” I tell him, and gesture for Zero to follow us. The brown-haired boy makes a noise of distress and beats a hasty retreat. I laugh as the boy disappears into the crowd. Zero kneels in front of me and raises and eyebrow at my laughter.

                “I just can’t imagine anyone being afraid of you,” I tell him sweetly, leaning over to stroke my fingers down the side of his face. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch several people watching us, so I lean closer and kiss him. He allows it, making no protest even when I deepen it, when my tongue probes at his lips and then finds entrance into his mouth. He also doesn’t react to it, doesn’t lean his body forward or parry my tongue with his. But that’s okay. I’m happy enough that he’s allowing these touches, allowing himself to be this vulnerable while we’re in public. The rest will come with time. And training.

                When we part, there’s another asset waiting a polite distance in front of us. He’s dressed in the more-conservative clothes, and once again the ones who are more conservatively dressed seem to be performing most of the menial labor. The boy is blonde, with golden hair and blue eyes, and I wonder why he isn’t being marketed as aggressively as the others. He looks young – could he still be in training? Perhaps 103 is still being trained as well?

                “Your room is ready, Master Price. If you’d like to follow me?” he asks, and waits for me to nod before turning and leading us from the room.


	3. Silver-Eyed Doll - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas drives me absolutely nuts, but hopefully I'll have another chapter out for you by then. IntrepidEm and Ygrainne have both beta'd these chapters and have been IMMENSELY helpful. Honestly, it was originally done in crayon with capital letters all over the place, and then they fixed it. 
> 
> Please, please, please leave comments, kudos, or even hop over to [Goodreads](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28066999-perfect-zero?ac=1&from_search=1#other_reviews) and rate The Long Leash: Perfect Zero. You can even visit me on [my website](http://ryoko21.weebly.com/) and leave me a message, check out some artwork, or even look at some of my favorite fic's by other authors. Thanks for reading!

                The walk from the pool room to the private room is uneventful, even if the young asset throws several fearful looks over his shoulder at Zero. We weave down several hallways, and I don’t even try to keep track of where we are. It seems like a labyrinth of halls and passages leading away from the docking area. I get the feeling, though, that Zero would have no problems leading us back to the ship if I needed to get there hastily. At the door to the room, the asset bows and leaves, indicating that 103 is waiting inside. I ask Zero to kneel by the wall and wait for me. I can tell that he’s uneasy about letting me out of his sight, but I don’t want to make this boy nervous by bringing Zero with me. So Zero gets a command to wait before I enter the room alone.

                The private room is similar to the lobby in design, with pale walls and white floors. It’s a spacious room, with a high ceiling and a washroom in the back. I notice a small lens in the corner of the room and realize that surveillance is probably how they ensure their customers are paying the proper fees. I’m not concerned about blackmail. Beyond the fact that I’m a somewhat notorious playboy, the only illegal sex-acts in this sector end in the death of a participant, and I’ve got no intention of doing any harm to this boy. Taboos over sex are nearly non-existent in space unless you’re a conservative fundamentalist, and that’s a dying minority. It seems a lot more likely that Reynard is simply safeguarding his investment.

                There’s a large bed with white linens and sheer, hanging draperies surrounding it. There is a sitting area with a few plush, white chairs. In the center is a low table with a tray of crackers and cheeses, a bottle of wine, a pitcher of water, a couple glasses, plates, and cloth napkins. The walls have tasteful pictures of idyllic landscapes. I see at least three security cameras in addition to the lens in the corner, and I scoff at their definition of private. I’ll have to be careful of how I interact with this asset, hopefully keeping suspicious behavior to a minimum.

                On the floor, beside the bed, the blonde boy from earlier is kneeling, his arms tucked behind him and his back bowed to accommodate the position of a pleasure slave. Even from the doorway, I can see him panting, his face pale, his eyes shut tight. It’s not even close to the open, smiling expression he wore less than an hour ago, while talking to a rumored killer.

                I look him over, but there’s not much to see that isn’t covered by the gray clothes that he’s still wearing. I notice that he looks a bit older than I’d originally thought. Old enough for the idea that he’s still in training to be fairly implausible. I also notice that he’s a good bit underweight, and wonder if that’s a conscious decision to appeal to a potential buyer, or if he’s just thin. Finally, I notice traces of make-up on his face. Even from here, it’s enough that I can tell that he’s trying to cover something up.

                He’s pretty, though. His milk-white skin is a smooth as silk, and his golden-blonde hair makes him look almost angelic. He’s too thin, but his body and his features are slight, making me think that it wouldn’t take much weight for his form to fill out nicely. He looks delicate, like a porcelain doll. With his eyes closed, I can almost imagine serene blue eyes that would fit better with the image, instead of the sharp, intelligent silver eyes I saw earlier. I can’t imagine he’s as delicate as he seems, if he’s brave enough to approach Zero.

                I take a seat in one of the chairs and make myself comfortable. The asset never opens his eyes to look at me, but I can see the pulse pounding in his neck. I take a moment to look at my Key now that I’m close enough to the asset. His information comes up in the “Potential Purchases” section, and shows his name as 103. His age is listed as 26, so he’s older than I was expecting, but certainly not too old to be valuable. I can see that he’s had only one owner who trained him as a domestic, but that the Oasis has him listed as a pleasure asset. In the “Notes” section, he’s listed as defective. What the hell does that mean?

                “Hello,” I begin, because I can’t think of anything else to start us off. He peeks an eye open and glances at me, before screwing them shut again.

                “Y-you wanted to see me, Owner Price?” he asks, his voice shaking.

                “Call me Owner Zeke,” I correct, because Owner Price seems too formal, but I can’t have him address me by my first name alone. “Go ahead and relax your position. I saw you talking with Zero, my asset.”

                “I’m so sorry, Owner Zeke,” he says quickly. He brings his arms to the front and relaxes the arch of his back, but remains on his knees. “I shouldn’t have been so forward. You have my sincerest apologies.”

                “I didn’t say you were in trouble for it,” I tell him, and he glances at me in surprise. “I just wanted to know why you talked to him, when everyone else was afraid.”

                He bites his lip, and his eyes are searching my face now, looking for some hint of what information I’m looking for. I don’t want to tip him off, so I keep my face neutral.

                He looks so different from Zero, despite the fact that both of them are clones. His face is expressive where Zero’s is unreadable. His body is frail and delicate, where Zero’s is sturdy and resilient. And those eyes… Zero’s eyes are silver, like all clones, but dark and nearly gun-metal gray. This clone before me, who must be a much later generation clone than Zero, has eyes that are so light they remind me of fine jewelry, sparkling and nearly white. There must be hundreds of other clones wearing this same face somewhere, different ages and different experiences but with the same genetic code. Perhaps most of them have died out under the harsh conditions of this life of servitude, if they’re all as fragile as the one before me.

                “He looked… lonely,” the light-eyed clone tells me. “I just… I thought he might need someone to talk to.”

                He doesn’t say, “as much as I do,” but I can hear it. Just a lonely young man trying to find solace in the company of someone else who’s isolated. It’s probably the most innocent intent that I could have hoped for.

                I take a moment to contemplate this. I pour myself a glass of wine and sip it – It’s a good vintage. I’m probably paying a lot for this. I take another sip and watch the asset fidget. He’s intentionally not looking in my direction. I can see him trying to calm himself, clenching his fingers in the fabric of his pants. I give him a few minutes to get himself together.

                “Could you come over here?” I ask him when I finish my first glass of wine. “It’s more comfortable on the rug.”

                He stands jerkily and stumbles, then hurries to where I’ve indicated. He falls into a presenting kneel again until I roll my eyes and tell him to relax.

                “I just want to have a conversation. You don’t have to be so nervous,” I say, trying to put him at ease. He eyes me warily.

                “What would you like to know, sir?”

                “You could start with your name,” I offer.

                “My name is whatever pleases you,” he says, and it sounds rehearsed. It’s an answer they’ve taught him to give.

                “If I wanted to give you a name, I would have,” I reply, and frown to show my displeasure at his avoidance.

                “It’s Kip. Short for Kiplan. If it pleases you, Owner,” he says quickly, in a too-quiet voice, like he’s telling me a secret. Not that he could have refused me.

                “Good. You know me as Ezekiel Price, and you’ve already met Zero. Now that we’re introduced, I’d like you to tell me about yourself.”

                “My information is available on your key.”

                “It is, but then, that’s not all that there is to the story, is it? Let’s start with this: You don’t seem like someone who’s difficult to get along with. You seem fairly friendly, if the past three minutes I’ve known you are anything to go by. And there are certainly enough other assets here for you to make friends with. So can you tell me why you’re so desperate for company that you would seek out a known killer for a companion?” I ask. I’m pushing him and I know it. I want to see how he’ll react.

                His hands clench in the fabric of his pants again. He’s trembling less, but I’m not sure if it’s because he’s less nervous or simply because his body can’t maintain that level of stress. He hesitates a long moment before saying quietly, “I get in trouble a lot. The others have found that it’s better not to be seen with me.”

                “In trouble?” I ask, because that isn’t something I’d pegged him for. “For what?”

                “Lying, mostly,” he admits. Which is counterintuitive, because a liar isn’t going to be honest about being deceptive. He’s going to hold on to his lie until it’s impossible to defend it any more, then pile on more lies until he’s caught again. So if Kip doesn’t lie to keep himself out of trouble, then what motivates him?

                “So what’s the last lie you got in trouble for?” I ask. Maybe the specifics can clear this up.

                “I burned dinner.”

                “Wait,” I challenge, “I thought you said you lied. Now you’re telling me you got in trouble for being incompetent?”

                “No, I didn’t- _I_ didn’t burn dinner. I told them I burned dinner, but I’m… I’m very well-trained in cooking. They knew that I didn’t burn dinner. So I got in trouble for lying.”

                “It seems pretty stupid to lie to get yourself _into_ trouble,” I scoff, even going as far as to sneer. This boy isn’t giving me the whole story, and I can’t think of any other way to get it out of him than to rile him up. “Maybe they avoid you because you’re an idiot?”

                “I’m not stupid,” he defends. “I knew I was going to get in trouble. I did it on purpose. I’m actually a very good cook-”

“Of course you are, sweetie,” I tell him, in the most patronizing voice I can manage. “I’m sure it was all planned out.”

“You don’t understand!” he snaps, as I’d been hoping he would. Nothing like an emotional outburst to get to the root of a situation. “Eric hadn’t eaten in three days! _Three days!_ Do you know what that’s like? For somebody as skinny as he is? For a _kid?_ It’s not his fault he wasn’t trained! He made one mistake! He’s just a stupid kid! I couldn’t-”

                His outburst ends abruptly when he meets my contemplative gaze. He covers his mouth in shock at himself. His eyes are wide with terror, and the shaking has returned. But I don’t saying anything in condemnation, and I don’t even pretend to be outraged.

                I like this one. Honesty, compassion. Apparently a bit of a temper, but I like his determination. It’s more than I could have hoped for, especially considering the dull, self-interested assets I met with earlier.

                “Why are you listed as defective?” I question before he can launch into the panicked apologies that I can see building on his lips. I haven’t managed to find anything so drastic that it would cause him to be called defective. He certainly seems intelligent enough. He looks a bit underweight, but I doubt that it’s bad enough to be called a fatal flaw.

                “I get migraines,” he admits quickly, obviously eager to leave his outburst behind. “It’s… It’s a couple times a month.”

                “How severe are they?” I question, because that could be a problem.

                “They’re…” he hesitates, biting his lip again. When he makes his decision, his expression goes sad, and I can tell already that I’m not going to like the answer. “They’re severe. They can last three to five days, and I can only work a few hours at a time when I have them. Light bothers me. I can’t eat. I don’t sleep. And none of the medical assets that I’ve seen can find any cause for them.”

                Damn. That’s not good. Something easily fixable would have been much preferred, because despite all medical advancements we’ve had, the human brain can still be a puzzle at times. The best I can hope for is to buy him and hope he gets better under my care. Finding another medic or a doctor to look at him might prove tricky, since I can’t risk taking him to a hospital. The worst possibility would be buying him only to have him die of a brain aneurism in a few days.

                “The headaches,” Kiplan adds hesitantly, “are the reason I ended up here. It’s kind of funny, actually. I started here as a pleasure asset and no one really wanted a clone at that time. So I got sold to my last master as a domestic. When my headaches started getting bad, he sold me back here. And no one wants me still.”

                That’s not true. I’d really like to take him home. I wonder if I can make myself pass him up, even for the sake of the mission. He’s not as experienced or reliable as I was hoping for.

                “Why change you back to a pleasure asset?” I question. “Wouldn’t it have been cheaper to leave you as a domestic?”

                “Owner Reynard was hoping that domestic duties were just too strenuous, and that I’d do okay as a pleasure asset.”

                “Can I assume that he was wrong?”

                “I did… Well, I did alright while I was being retrained, but I don’t think Trainer Reynard was pleased with my skills,” he tells me quietly. I can understand his reluctance to reveal that he disappointed Reynard, but I also understand that Reynard’s standards are probably very high for his pleasure assets. I don’t think it’s fair to ask Kip to catch up with the other pleasure assets while he’s so sickly, but I keep my opinion to myself and let him continue.

                “Trainer Reynard had me start working in the kitchen to offset some of the cost of keeping me. Then, last week, he sent me to give a client a lap dance, but I fainted in the middle of it. That’s when they decided to stop trying to sell me.” So they do have assets that are being more strongly pushed, as I’d suspected. “Actually, I’m not really supposed to be presented to owners. I snuck into the Oasis on my own. No one’s bothering to watch me anymore, and Trainer Reynard has removed all my duties. I’m scheduled to be cancelled within the next few cycles.”

                “Cancelled?”

                “Um… They’re going to deactivate my chip. And… I guess… They’ll probably sell my body to the Labs,” he says, and tries to appear unaffected by shrugging his shoulders, but his hands are shaking again. He’s terrified.

                Damn.

                It’s not like I can leave him now. Not knowing that if he stays here, he’ll be dead by tomorrow. I have to take him with me. It’s a matter of life and death. And the fact that I wanted him anyway, the fact that I’ve been looking for an excuse to buy him, doesn’t hurt either.

                Still, it’s not a simple matter. Now that I’ve decided to make a purchase, I’m going to have to negotiate with Reynard. I have to decide how to play this. Buying a defective asset as my first purchase could make me look weak and foolish, unless I can somehow fix Kiplan. Can I salvage him like I’m trying to save Zero? Do I dare take on two assets in need of so much work and attention? Regardless, I’m going to need to play hard ball with Reynard to bring Kip’s price down. Beyond the fact that I’m currently racking up bills at a rate that will make my accountant’s head spin, I don’t want to be seen as naive enough to pay full price for damaged goods.

                Even though, unlike the men here, I don’t count him as damaged and I don’t like putting a price tag on human life.

                I sigh heavily, and Kip must take it as a sound of displeasure because he flinches.

                “I could get you a different asset, if you wanted?” he tries to soothe. “We have several other blondes, a few other clones if you’re interested in that. I could-…”

                “No. Take off your clothes,” I instruct. He hesitates for a moment, then jumps to his feet. His fingers are shaking almost too badly to undo his buttons.

                “O-Of course, Owner Zeke,” he says as he struggles to get out of his top. “Please be aware that there is a fee for any sexual activities we might have, which will be billed as entertainment when you leave.” He tries to laugh, but he’s shaking too hard for it to be believable. “I guess too many owners were sampling the products, so now we have to charge for tastings. But, don’t worry! There’s no fee as long as you purchase the asset directly afterwards, so if you wanted to taste any others it wouldn’t add to their purchase price.”

                By this time he’s finally removed his button-down shirt, his cotton pants, and the matching slippers that were on his feet. He stands fully nude before me, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides, his breath coming in quick gasps. His hands are still shaking, and he holds them against his hips to cover it.

                The first thing I do is to grab a napkin from the table, then dip the edge in the pitcher of water. Kip flinches when I bring it to his face, but I’m not deterred. I slowly stroke the wet cloth across his cheek, watching as the makeup smears before coming away.

                What I find underneath is pale skin – ashen almost, although I’m sure some of that can be attributed to fear – and the deep purple of a bruise spread over his left eye. It looks like a nasty right hook, although there’s a bit of a triangle shape just under his eye that makes me wonder if someone hit him with something other than a fist. I probe the skin around his cheekbone with my fingers and he whimpers, but doesn’t pull away. It doesn’t take me long to decide that the bruise is a few days old and that it’s mostly a superficial wound.

                “How’d this happen?” I question, my fingertips holding his chin still so I can examine his face. “Did Reynard hit you? Or one of the guards?”

                Kip blushes and his eyes go to the floor. Surprisingly, he seems embarrassed.

                “It- Um, it happened when I was giving the lap dance, actually. I hit my head on a table when I passed out. The guards know better than to hit the face, and Reynard uses the chip for discipline.”

                I nod and accept that, because the bruising could match up to the corner of a table. I move along in my inspection, running my eyes down his body. Kip hasn’t bothered to hide any of the marks that were covered by his clothes. There’s some light bruising on his upper body that looks like he might have gotten hit or punched days ago.

                “And these?” I ask, gesturing toward his chest.

                “When I lied about burning dinner, the kitchen manager shoved me down and got a couple kicks in before anyone could stop him.”

                More recent are the fingermarks around his wrists, which consist of small bruises layered over one another and tell me that this kind of treatment happens fairly regularly. I take one of his arms and hold it up for closer inspection, but I don’t even bother to ask. It’s fairly obvious that the guards aren’t allowed to manhandle the assets too much, but this is something that sneaks through.

                I trail my fingers along his arm and down his chest, until my fingertips brush against the pale outline of his ribs. He’s skinny, but not horribly so. He’s not as underweight as Zero was when I first got him. Probably a week or so of rest and hardier meals and he’d put a decent bit of weight back on.

                “I can get someone else for you,” he offers hesitantly. He’s probably taking my inspection for disgust, if the nervous way he chews his bottom lip is any indication. I reach out and stroke my thumb across his jaw, then pull his lip from between his teeth. It’s red and puffy from the treatment, but he hasn’t quit drawn blood yet.

                “There’s no need. I’d like you on the bed,” I command softly. He walks there obediently enough and doesn’t balk when I follow behind him. However, he hesitates as I guide him onto the bed, pulling away as I press him onto his hands and knees.

                “Wait,” he pleads as I put him in position. With him bent over, I can see almost every inch of his milky skin. I can also see the way his sides are heaving as he tries to take panicked, gasping breaths. I can practically hear his heart trying to drum out of his chest. I know he’s not a virgin, so what has him so terrified?

                “Please,” he says as I pause behind him. “I didn’t… I wasn’t supposed to see any owners today! I didn’t know- I didn’t get ready,” he tells me, and there’s a pleading tone to his voice. Get ready? For wh- Oh, for sex. He didn’t properly lube himself before coming to see me. Which, I can only assume, is a large mistake for someone in his position.

                “It’s fine,” I tell him. I’m expecting him to calm at least a bit, but instead I hear a sob that’s quickly stifled. I look at his face and see despair and resignation there, but he simply bites his lip and stays quiet.

                Only then do I realize that he thinks that I’m about to fuck him dry.

                I sigh again. I want to comfort him, but I’m also hesitant to show an asset too much regard when I know we’re being watched. I settle for laying a hand on his back and saying softly, “I’m not going to hurt you.” But the way his panicked breathing continues tells me that he doesn’t believe me.

                He hides his face in his arms, his sides still heaving for breath. I move behind him because I want to get this over with. If I could, I’d skip this part of the inspection altogether. But I plan to bargain for him, and I need to know all the places that he’s been damaged. I can only hope that this isn’t one of those places.

                The skin of his ass is as creamy and flawless as the rest of him, and I kneel between his legs and run my fingers down his thighs. He flinches at my touch, but that’s to be expected with how anxious he is. There aren’t any bruises on his hips or thighs, and that’s a good sign. His knees are pressed together, and I put my hands on the insides of his thighs and push them open. He whimpers, but doesn’t fight me. With his legs parted, I can just see the pink skin of his opening and his pale, bare testicles hanging between his legs. I put my hands on either side of his ass and push his cheeks further apart, until I can see his pucker clearly. His entrance is an enticing shade of pink, and stands out clearly against his light skin. It’s flawless, with no signs of irritation or inflammation. I take my thumb and brush it across his hole. Kip jumps, but it seems to be from surprise. When I press my finger against the flesh, he makes no sign or sound of distress.

                It’s enough evidence for me, and I don’t feel the need to upset him any further. I’m satisfied that, even if Kiplan has been used to sex in the past, he hasn’t been injured by it recently. I’ll need to ask him more about his sexual experience at another time, when he isn’t about to hyperventilate into the mattress. For now, I’m confident that I don’t need to use this to negotiate his price, and I’m also relieved that I won’t need to treat him for any sexual damage when I get him back to the ship. Well, no physical damage, anyway.

                “We’re done,” I tell him softly as I pull back. I’m not sure he can hear me over the sound of his own breathing, but my movements catch his attention. He sends a questioning glance my way, and the tears on his lashes take me surprise, even though I should have expected them. I try to give him an encouraging smile. “Can you sit up?”

                Kip nods but hesitates before actually moving, like the question and the action are having a hard time connecting in his mind. He looks pale and shaky. His hands are trembling, and he fumbles as he sits up, unable to hold his balance. I help him lean against the headboard and he moves sluggishly for me. When I push the hair from his eyes, the skin of his face is hot and damp with perspiration. His eyes are glassy, and he’s starting to worry me. His story about fainting echoes in my ears, and I wonder if that’s likely to happen again.

                I’m starting to feel like my hands are tied. I’m not sure if Reynard will be willing to sell him if he passes out again – is it possible that he’d be too defective to sell at that point? What if I can’t rouse him? I don’t want to risk it, so I decide that I’m going to have to do what I can to keep him from fainting, regardless of what it looks like.

                When Kip is stable in his position on the bed, I move across the room and pour him a glass of wine. The effects of the alcohol are likely to make him dizzier, but I’m concerned about how thin and weak he is. Low blood-sugar, perhaps? Or could it just be fear? He’s awfully nervous around me. I grab a handful of the crackers and then return to the bed, where Kip hasn’t even managed to follow my progress with his eyes. The boy’s hands are trembling and I don’t even try to hand him the glass. I sit beside him and steady his head with my shoulder as I tip the glass into his mouth.

                At the first taste of the liquid, he seems to come around a bit. His hands rise like they’re going to try to take the glass, but then one falls back to his lap and the other wraps around my hand on the glass, helping to steady it. When he drains the glass, he’s alert enough to take the crackers on his own and feed himself. I get him a second glass and help him drink it. His trembling seems to be abating already.

                “I’m so sorry,” he says miserably, still leaning against my shoulder, although I’m starting to suspect that he wants to be comforted more than he needs to be steadied. It’s so different from Zero, who still doesn’t truly understand how to accept affection, where Kip seems to seek it out.

                “It’s alright,” I assure him, and he huffs a laugh.

                “Oh yes, I’m sure you’re thrilled to be playing nurse-maid,” he quips dryly. The terror is gone. I can only assume because he’s too tired to hold it, but I can practically feel it being replaced by depression.

                “You fit nicely in my arms,” I tell him softly. He smiles and lets his head fall against my shoulder, lets his eyes slip closed. I run my hand down his back, feel the softness of his skin against my fingers. I like the way his warmth sinks through my clothes and the way his body presses against mine.

                “You’re really nice,” he huffs, and it makes me smile too. It’s fairly obvious that the liquor is going directly to his head, but at least he’s not panicking anymore. I wish I’d had something more substantial than a few crackers to feed him.

                “Are you feeling better?” I question. It makes him rouse and I’m a little disappointed because I would have liked to let him nap. It’s probably for the best, though, as I still have Zero waiting in the hall.

                “Yes, sir,” he says, slipping immediately back into formality. “Is there something I can do for you?”

                I chuckle at that and help him sit on his own before standing up.

                “I’m not sure there’s much you’re capable of right now,” I tease, but it makes him blush and lower his eyes. Not relaxed enough for jokes, then.

                “I’m very talented with my mouth,” he offers hesitantly. “Or, if you give me a moment to prepare-”

                “That’s alright,” I tell him because I have little interest in having sex in a rented room, and even less so with a slave who’s so obviously terrified of me. Still, Kiplan’s face falls at the rejection, and I don’t like causing him any more distress.

                “I’m sorry, sir,” he apologizes, but I wave dismissively.

                “It’s fine, I really don’t need anything right now. Do you think you can put your clothes back on?”

                “Yes, sir,” he replies dejectedly. I’d like to think that it’s because he doesn’t want to leave me, but I’m practical enough to know that he’s probably upset because he doesn’t want to go back out there.

                I make myself let Kip dress himself, even though I can see how unsteady his hands still are. The fact that he manages to dress himself, however, is a bit of a surprise to me. He’d been so pale and unsteady earlier that I’d thought he might faint, but he seems to be recovering remarkably quickly. I almost move to help when he stumbles while trying to put his pants back on, but a glance at the camera in the corner of the room reminds me that I’ve probably shown too much interest already. I distract myself by pulling out my Key and glancing through Kip’s information one more time, although there’s nothing new to see. Kip’s input has nicely filled in the holes in the information, and I feel like I’ve got a better grasp on his time in The Leash. His history before then, however, will have to wait for another time.

                “Are you ready?” I ask as he slips his shoes on.

                “Yes, of course,” he says quickly, and bows his head. “I’m so sorry for my behavior. If you’d like to make a formal complaint–”

                “No, I don’t want to complain,” I tell him with a soft smile. “But I do need to speak with Reynard.”

                He dips his head dejectedly. I give a soft sigh, but I don’t have time to discuss this with him. I’ve left Zero waiting in the hall for long enough. With one last look at the silver-eyed blonde that I plan to take home with me, I head to the door and lead him a back out into the Oasis.


	4. Discounted Merchandise - Kip POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Slowly crawls out from under a pile of discarded wrapping paper and turkey bones.   
> *Quietly posts chapter two days late and hopes nobody notices.   
> *Crawls back under mound of Christmas debris. 
> 
>  
> 
> Actual notes:  
> -I've been getting amazing editing help from IntrepidEm, Marner, and Ygrainne, so these chapters should be MUCH better quality than earlier chapters. Seriously. It's embarrassing how much the quality has improved.
> 
> -My laptop gave me this warning a couple days ago: "Cooling fan is not functioning, please immediately turn off computer and return to store for service." So... that's probably not good. Probably has something to do with the fact that the screws keep falling out of the bottom. Anyway, that's not going to happen (warranty expired ages ago) so there's going to be a bit of a transit period while I try to get a new computer/tablet/something. 
> 
> -There might be some formatting changed coming up. I LOVE putting indents on paragraph breaks, but half of them disappear when I transfer my files over from MicrosoftWord or GoogleDocs, so I'm going to have to figure something out with that, because I can't keep adding them by hand. 
> 
> -Please leave me comments about what you think, leave me kudos if you like it, and maybe even visit [my website](http://ryoko21.weebly.com/) and take a look around? I'm also on [Goodreads](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28066999-perfect-zero?ac=1&from_search=1#other_reviews) if you'd like to leave me a rating or review there. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope everyone has had a Merry Christmas or a Happy Holiday!

           I follow Owner Zeke because I don’t really know what else to do. There’s no point in running. If he makes a complaint to Reynard, there’s no place that I can hide from my punishment. If Reynard even bothers to punish me. Maybe he’ll just lock me away until the Lab’s ship comes to pick me up. The thought makes me shiver with fear.

           I don’t want to die.

           I don’t want to be alone.

           And I really, really don’t want to die alone in some cell, or be tortured for an experiment, or harvested for organs.

           Owner Zeke doesn’t seem like a bad person. He was nice enough not to have dry sex with me, although I imagine that’s because my terror must have been off-putting. I can’t think of any other reason he’d get so close to having sex with me and then abruptly back off. He didn’t seem angry, though, and he was kind enough to hold me afterwards. I’ve grabbed onto a very small hope that maybe, just maybe, he won’t make a complaint, and this incident will slip past Trainer Reynard’s notice.

           It’s a small, foolish, futile hope.

           But it’s all I have.

           In the hall, Owner Zeke’s asset falls into step behind me. It makes me feel a bit caged, but I don’t try to fall back. His name, if I remember correctly, is the same as his designation – Zero. I wonder if he picked that name for himself, since Owner Zeke allowed me to use my own name earlier. Zero’s face is the same passive, emotionless mask that I saw earlier. I get the feeling that he doesn’t really like me, but I also think that maybe he just doesn’t know how to interact with me. He doesn’t seem aggressive, so even though I’ve heard the whispers of the other assets about zeros in battle, I don’t feel frightened or threatened. Maybe it’s another way that I’m defective.

           My heart drops when I see that Trainer Reynard is already coming down the hall to meet us, bracketed on either side by his guards. So much for my hope not to get caught. Someone must have told him that Owner Zeke had selected me, even though I wasn’t being offered. I know I’m in trouble already, although his face doesn’t show his anger. I feel the bottom drop out of my stomach as he approaches. Trainer Reynard  _ hates _ to be caught unprepared, and I know he wasn’t expecting Owner Zeke to ask for me. Trainer Renard is probably livid at the thought that I might have embarrassed him. I wonder if I’ve finally pushed him to the point of physical violence. The labs won’t care if I’m battered and bruised. It’s not like they need my face pretty or my skin unblemished. I’m nothing but parts at this point anyway. 

           I tamp down on those thoughts when I feel a thread of panic start to constrict around my chest. If I panic now, there’s no way I’ll be able to avoid discipline.

           Not that I have much hope of avoiding it anyway.

           “Is everything alright?” Reynard asks as he approaches, coming to stand in front of Owner Zeke. The two guards stay behind Reynard, just close enough to be intimidating without being directly hostile to Owner Zeke. “I didn’t expect you to sample an asset so soon, or to finish with him so quickly.”

           Owner Zeke stops as well, and I find myself positioned behind Zeke and beside Zero. I lower my head and clasp my hands behind me. We’re only pausing, so I’m expected to put my feet together instead of doing a full kneel, but I’m so shaky that I almost wish I could sit down. I see Zero mimic my position and I wonder if he’s following my lead. Standing silently with our hands folded and eyes down is all an asset is supposed to do while waiting unless directly addressed by an owner, and for once I’m thankful for it. I still feel vaguely nauseous and lightheaded from my panic earlier. My body isn’t strong enough for such emotional outbursts, especially now that I’ve been cut back on food rations. My mind feels sluggish, and I can’t think of anything I could say to make Reynard less angry at me. I’d probably just make him mad enough to hit me now instead of later.

           “I didn’t think I’d find someone so easily either, but this little one caught my eye,” Zeke says, and from the corner of my eye I can see him nod his head in my direction. I didn’t do anything on purpose to catch his attention. Surely I can’t be in trouble for that.

           “Still,” Reynard says, and I can hear the frown in his voice, “owners are usually with an asset for longer than just a few minutes. I assure you, if the asset did not perform to your satisfaction, I would be willing to offer a refund on his services.”

           Reynard hates giving free services. I bite my lip to contain a whimper.

           “He was fine, but nothing happened. I just wanted to look him over,” Zeke responds, and his voice shows no signs of annoyance. Is that really all he was interested in doing with me? I can’t imagine it. What purpose would that serve, since he didn’t have me give him any sexual relief?

           I can feel Reynard’s piercing gaze on me. I’m sure he’s taken in the way my clothes are sloppily thrown back on, the way my hair is mussed, and the tear-stains on my cheeks. It’s not typically how an asset should look after an inspection, but I don’t dare raise my eyes or comment.

           “It certainly doesn’t look like nothing happened,” Reynard replies. It’s as close to arguing with a customer as I’ve heard him come. Reynard must not have had time to go over the surveillance before he came down here to speak with Owner Zeke.

           “I may have frightened him a bit during my inspection,” Owner Zeke admits with just a hint of embarrassment, like my frailty was his fault. I don’t understand – is he covering for me on purpose?

           “Frightened him?” Reynard asks, sounding skeptical. My stomach drops, but I can’t let Reynard accuse Owner Zeke of lying. I lower my head even further and take a small step forward.

           “I apologize, Trainer Reynard,” I say quietly. “I didn’t expect to be called for service. I wasn’t prepared, and I panicked.”

           I dare a glance up and wish I hadn’t. Reynard isn’t glaring, but his face is completely passive, his eyes boring into me. He’s livid, but he won’t show it in front of a customer. I can’t help taking a half-step back and hunching my shoulders in the face of his anger. I wish I could melt into the floor. If I’d thought my life was bad before – being locked in a tiny, prison-like cell all day and otherwise ignored – I can’t imagine what this insult will prompt Reynard into doing. Perhaps he won’t wait for the Lab to come for me. Maybe he’ll kill me tonight and put my body on ice until they get here.

           “It’s quite alright,” Zeke interjects, stepping between me and Reynard. “I’m not really interested in sampling the assets.”

           “Then what are you interested in?” Reynard snaps, and it’s the first time I’ve heard open annoyance in his voice when he’s talking to a customer. He’s so furious at me that he’s actually losing patience with Owner Zeke, and it makes me feel even worse because Zeke was very kind to me.  Reynard must be so, so angry to be losing his composure before we’re in private. Tears spring to my eyes, but I bite my lip to hold them back. Crying will only make it worse.

           “I want to buy him,” Zeke says, and I’m so caught up in my own terror that I don’t realize what he’s said until Reynard says, “Excuse me?”

           “Is it really so hard to imagine?” he says. He looks at me, and I’m so startled that I meet his eyes. I can’t even look away as he reaches out and lays his palm along my cheek. “I like him. I want him. Let’s talk price.”

           All my thoughts tumble to a stop. All the plans I have to try to minimize Reynard’s anger – all the excuses I could use, all the pleas that I can give him, all my plans on how to handle this – none of them even included being sold and taken out of Reynard’s reach. I don’t- I’m so shocked that I don’t even know if I should be happy.

           Or terrified.

           Owner Zeke pulls his hand back, and finally I remember to look at the floor. My head spins as I stare unseeingly at my own feet. I don’t know anything about Owner Zeke, other than the fact that his other asset is supposedly a dangerous killer. I don’t even know why he wants me. Who specifically sets out to buy a broken slave? Unless… Unless they plan to do such awful things to him that it won’t matter how broken he is.

           My stomach roils and I suppress the urge to heave.

           I can’t think like that. Zeke showed me nothing but kindness. He didn’t show any penchant for perversion, he didn’t seem to take any pleasure at my distress. The other questions – I just can’t let myself think about that right now.

           “I see,” Reynard says slowly, and I think for once that he might be as puzzled as I am. “Did he happen to mention his defect? Generally, we don’t sell assets that are damaged.”

           “Yes, migraines wasn’t it? I’m still interested in him. However,” Zeke’s voice takes on a more serious tone, “I can’t be expected to pay full price for an asset who’s scheduled to be cancelled, now can I?”

           “I suppose,” Reynard says slowly, like he’s forcing the words to come out, “that I could offer a slight discount, considering the state of the product.”

           “Small discount?” Zeke scoffs, and I hadn’t expected to feel quite so much like a piece of furniture while they haggle over me. “He’s hardly worth the oxygen to you. No one else is going to buy him, and you never know when the Labs will be looking for new bodies.”

           I don’t let myself wonder how he knows that. I don’t, because that thought frightens me more than the idea of staying with Reynard.

           “If I don’t sell you 103,” Reynard argues, “you might go back out there and find a different asset to buy. Whereas if I practically give this asset to you, then I’ve lost all the money I paid for him, all the money I’ve put into retraining and maintaining him, and all the money that you won’t spend on another asset. I can’t very well run a business like that.”

           I know that the price Reynard paid my last owner for me was very small, and there’s a possibility it came in the form of a discount on another asset. Reynard’s older assets do all the training of his pleasure slaves, so he didn’t have to pay anything for that. And he’s had me on starvation rations and helping in the kitchens since he realized that I was too damaged to resell as a pleasure asset, so it’s not like he’s put out a lot of money on my care. I wish I could tell Owner Zeke that, but I won’t dare speak out of turn in front of Reynard. I can’t be sure that he won’t lose his temper and kill me on the spot.

           “Let me be honest with you,” Zeke says, and he moves conspiratorially closer to Reynard. “I don’t want to spend a lot of money on an asset right now. Do you know why?” he asks. Reynard says nothing, and I cast a quick glance up in time to see Zeke nod at Zero. “It’s because I’m not sure if he’ll survive being in close contact with my first asset.”

           “I thought you said you had control of him?” Reynard responds.

           “Oh, Zero’s been perfectly well-behaved while I’m around. He’s quiet and obedient and unobtrusive. But the other day, I found him in the gym smashing a shadow dummy to pieces. It was brutal, just pieces of plastic and metal flying everywhere. Now, I love that Zero is dangerous. I get very turned on by the idea of controlling something like that; I think you can probably understand. But the fact is, I can’t be with Zero every moment of the day. So I’d really like to bring home a second asset for a test run, one that’s not going to be missed too much if something happens. I’d be very disappointed if I brought home an expensive asset and it… Well, if it turned out like the shadow dummy. So, can we agree to do each other a favor? I’ll pay you considerably more than the Labs will give you for his body. And you sell me a damaged asset even though it’s against your better judgement. We both go home happy?”

           Reynard hesitates for long enough that I begin to lose hope. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d played hard with an owner over price, and I can see Reynard being vindictive enough to kill me out of spite. But finally, finally, Reynard sighs, and I feel hope give its first tiny flutter in my chest.

           “Come then,” Reynard says, “we’ll decide on an exact price and make the exchange in my office.”

           Walking down the hall becomes a blur. My thoughts are jumbled and disorganized, collapsing before they can form a proper train. I’m exhausted, hungry, and still vaguely nauseous from my earlier panic. I shuffle my feet as I follow and keep my eyes on the ground. When we finally reach Reynard’s private office, Zeke turns to Zero and me.

           “Both of you, kneel here and wait for me,” Owner Zeke says, then disappears into the office. I fall gratefully to my knees and settle into a relaxed kneel with my back against the wall. It’s as comfortable as I dare to get. Beside me, Zero kneels in a similar fashion, although he doesn’t rest his back against the wall. Reynard’s guards wander off, as they are apparently unnecessary at this stage of negotiations.

           Which leaves me alone with the very asset that I should be most afraid of.

           Still, there isn’t anything in his expression or demeanor that makes me think I might be in danger. He seems more shy and aloof than threatening. Still, I know he’s deadly. But doesn’t everyone have the potential to be a killer when provoked?

           I find my eyes drifting to him without any real intention. We’re not really supposed to raise our eyes when awaiting a master’s return, but I can’t help myself. I find that Zero’s steel-gray eyes are fixed on me, his face neutral. I open my mouth to say something – I can’t really say what – when he cuts me off with a dark glare.  

           “Master Zeke shouldn’t be buying you,” he tells me. “You’re weak.”

           It stings more than I’d anticipated, and I find myself flinching back and lowering my eyes to my knees again. All the painful thoughts from earlier come flooding back, all the uncertainty and self-doubt. If Zero can see that I’m broken, surely my new Master has seen how worthless I am.

           “I know,” I reply softly.

           But it’s my only chance.


	5. Hazards of Transfer - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a quick update to start the new year. Hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday!
> 
> Once again, thanks to my entire support team: IntrepidEm, Marner, and Ygrainne. Without them, this wouldn't be possible!

           Reynard isn’t happy about selling me a discounted asset, but he’s a lot more interested after I ask him to transfer a sizable amount of money into coins for purchases inside of the Leash. He gives me a lower fee than Petir had offered, so we’re both pleased about the transaction. I manage to get him to change Zero’s designation from combat asset to pleasure, but I leave Kip’s designation alone. Although I know he’s had considerable training as a domestic asset, I’m more interested in having him with me at all times, guiding me through the Leash society, than I am in using him for a servant. I can still compete him, if it turns out that he’s capable enough, the same way I plan to compete Zero.

           Reynard and I part on good terms, and he informs me that he’s had Kiplan taken to the medbay for the transfer of ownership, since it’s not unheard of for there to be medical complications. I can’t help but wonder if Kip’s migraines make it more likely that he’ll have problems, but it’s too late to back out now. Besides, the possibility of a life with me is still better than a certain death with Reynard.

           After a quick look at a map of the area, Zero leads me unerringly to the med-bay. Zero apparently has a photographic memory, which is good because I get lost around every corner in the place. I can tell by the set of his shoulders that Zero is irritated with me, although he’s too well-trained to say anything. I can’t imagine someone like him, with the value he places on physical strength, would be pleased about me buying someone like Kip.

           I hear voices as we approach the medical room, and it takes me only a moment to realize that Kip is speaking excitedly to someone inside. I stop by the door and listen, as I am never one to turn down free information.

           “Can you believe I’m actually being sold?” I hear Kip’s excited tone though the door. “I thought the next time I came here would be for the Labs!”

           “I’m happy for you, Kip,” comes a hesitant reply in a voice that I’m unfamiliar with. “But… Owner Price? Really?”

           “What’s wrong with him?” Kip says, and there’s a note of petulance to his tone. “He’s wealthy and attractive, he seems kind and even-tempered. He’s much better than I could have hoped for.”

           “Kiplan,” the other voice sighs. “This man fucks a zero for fun. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t be happy. I’m just saying… be careful.”

           “I know,” comes Kip’s voice again, and this time it’s much less excited. “There are very few reasons to buy a broken asset.”

           That’s as far as I’d like Kip to get with that train of thought, so I take a purposefully loud step before opening the door. Inside is a fairly standard, if small, medical room done in mostly stark white colors and lacking the whimsical atmosphere of the rest of the Oasis.

           Kip and the second man both stiffen as I enter the room. Although Kip relaxes when he sees that it’s me, the other man seems to get noticeably more nervous. The man has dark hair and brown eyes, and the white clothes and lab coat of a medic. He looks a bit older than I was expecting, perhaps late 30’s, with a slim body and an intelligent gaze. I nod to him as Zero enters the room behind me and takes a guarding stance against the wall. The medic bows his head and holds his open palms in front of him, which I can only assume is the position for a scholarly asset. Behind him, I notice that Kip has his head down and his hands clasped behind him.

           “You can relax,” I tell them. “I’d like to get the transfer finished and get my new asset home.”

           “Of course, Owner Price,” the medic says hastily. “I wasn’t aware that you’d be arriving so soon. I’ll just get your asset settled and then you can complete the transfer process.” He turns to Kip quickly, with a more professional tone, and asks, “Have you eaten anything in the past twelve hours?”

Kip colors a bit, a stark contrast since his face is still pale. “I- just a couple crackers and some wine, maybe an hour ago.”

The medic keeps an even expression, but there’s a displeased tilt to his mouth, and he nods his head toward a door on the other side of the room. Kiplan sighs but goes to the door, opening it to reveal a bathroom, and then closes it softly behind him. In a moment, I hear the sounds of retching. I cast a surprised look at the medic, who gives me an apologetic look in return.

           “I’m sorry, Owner Price, I hadn’t realized that he’d eaten.”

           “Is that a problem?”

           “We have to be especially careful with this one, but as a policy we don’t allow our assets to eat for at least six hours before they transfer. It’s not usually a problem because most owners who purchase an asset stay at least a cycle beforehand. I understand that you’re eager to depart with Asset 103, so I’ve had to ask him to clear his system manually. Otherwise he could asphyxiate during the transfer process.”

           I hadn’t known that. My eyes dart to Zero, and the vision of him shaking and seizing during his own transfer assails me. If he hadn’t stopped me from feeding him beforehand, would I have killed him? Would he have choked on his own vomit while I stood there and watched, helpless?

“Is this… Does this happen often?” I find myself asking, trying my best to keep my voice neutral.

“It’s a rare occurrence,” the medic assures me. I hear Kiplan stop heaving from the bathroom, and then the sound of running water. “It’s just, with Asset 103, we have to be extra careful because he might not recover his senses as quickly.”

“Because of the migraines?”

“Yes, sir. I understand that you’ve been informed of them? Sometimes a transfer or a discipline can trigger them.”

“Sometimes?” I ask.

“It’s most of the time, sir,” Kiplan interjects as he exits the bathroom. “The length and intensity of the migraine depends on the severity of the discipline, but I always get one after I’m transferred. I’m sorry if it inconveniences you.”

          “It’s fine,” I tell him dismissively, because I don’t really know how else to respond. I’ve never had someone apologize to me for being in pain that I’ve caused them. I remind myself that I’ll have to be careful not to use the chip to discipline Kip, if it always causes a reaction. Although I can’t imagine him being difficult enough to warrant it.

           “Are you ready?” the medic questions, and nods at an exam chair on the other side of the room. It’s high backed and slightly reclined, with arm, leg, and neck supports. Kiplan winces when he sees it, his face going from pale to ashen, but he nods. On unsteady feet, he goes to the chair and lies back. He winces but doesn’t struggle when the medic comes over and straps him down at the wrists, ankles, and across his forehead. I wonder if these kinds of restraints are overkill, or if I was seriously neglectful when I transferred Zero.

           Kiplan looks much smaller and younger pinned down in the chair. His breathing is shallow, and I can tell that his nerves are starting to fray. His face is still pale with a gray pallor, and it’s an even worse shade than when he thought I was going to rape him. His hands are curled in a white-knuckled grip around the armrest, even though the medic has already tightened the straps around his wrists. When the medic goes to fasten the strap on Kip’s forehead, he has to press Kip’s head back against the headrest before securing the strap. As soon as Kip is secured at all five points, the medic moves to one of the cabinets against the wall, giving me a clear view of Kip’s taunt body. I watch his chest begin to heave, and can tell before the medic even turns around that Kip’s about to panic. When the medic turns back around with a gag in his hands, Kip hits his breaking point. He makes a whine of distress and jerks against his bonds.

           “Wait!” he calls, trying to turn his face away from the surprised medic. “I can’t do this! I’m sorry! I can’t- You need to let me go! I can’t do this!”

           “Kiplan!” the medic snaps, his eyes wide in surprise as he glances from Kip’s thrashing form to my standing one. He looks horrified, and I can assume that most assets don’t behave like this. He’s even forgotten to call Kiplan by his number. The medic says, “Kip, stop! Stop!” before stepping in front of Kip and blocking my view. He turns to me and says, “I’m so sorry Owner Price. He’s never done anything like this! He’s not usually so disobedient.”

           “He’s just frightened,” I correct, and step around him. There’s a wheeled chair by the front cabinets, which I snag without asking and pull it next to Kip’s chair. He’s still whimpering and thrashing as I sit beside him, but his panicked gaze darts to my face. I’m relieved that he can still recognize me.

           “Kip,” I call softly, “You need to calm down.” I smooth my fingers along his cheek, feeling the way he pulls his head against the bonds. His skin is overheated, covered in a light sweat. There are tears pooling on his lashes, and it makes his silver eyes sparkle like glass. He gives a quiet sob and then swallows hard, sagging against his bonds.

           “You have to let me go,” he begs. “Please, you’re not going to want me. Just let me go now. Don’t put me through this!”

           “Is that what you’re so afraid of?” I wonder. His eyes close and tears spill down his face. I can feel him try to nod, but his head is still too tightly secured. I understand his fear, that the transfer will trigger a migraine and that I won’t want him once that happens. “That’s not going to happen. You’ve been purchased, and you’re coming home with me. Now, I need you to calm down. You are not in control here, Kiplan. You need to submit and trust that I will take care of you.”

           His eyes open again, and they peer fearfully into mine. I meet his gaze with an even stare of my own. Eventually, he takes a deep breath and lets the last of his tears spill. He whispers, “Okay,” in a breathless voice.

           I snap my fingers for the gag, and it’s not as polite as I normally am, but I don’t have time to waste on the medic. I feel a slight tremor in his hands, and glance to see that he looks upset. I’m not sure- Does this sort of thing not happen very often? Or does he have an affection for Kiplan? But I don’t have time to ask, not with Kiplan hovering just under panic beside me.

           Kip opens his mouth obediently for the gag, but his eyes close in fear, sending another cascade of tears down his face. The gag has a thick piece of rubber in the center, more like a mouthguard that a traditional gag. It slips easily between Kip’s teeth and over his tongue, and Kip closes his lips around it. It isn’t like a normal gag that ties behind the head, but instead has notches on both sides of the straps that secure against the sides of the headrest. When it’s secure and I settle back into my chair again, I see that Kip’s eyes remain tightly shut and that he’s biting down on the rubber between his teeth.

           “I’ll give you some privacy while you complete the transfer. I’ll be in the hall if you need me,” the medic says, and then steps outside. I glance toward the door and see Zero kneeling beside it like a sentry. I turn back to Kip and run my fingers through his hair again, feeling the way his body shakes with tension. But prolonging this is not going to make it any easier.

          When I start to read the code that Reynard gave me, Kip’s composed demeanor cracks. His eyes snap wide with fear. He struggles against the bonds, but this time I don’t even try to calm him. There’s nothing I can say to make this better. Instead, I struggle to say the transfer code in an even tone. For some reason, my voice has the slightest tremor that I can’t seem to stop.

           When I reach the twelfth digit, Kip opens his eyes sightlessly and screams. It’s partially obscured by the gag, but still loud and shrill enough that I jump and almost go racing for the medic. When this happened to Zero, he was eerily silent, and the only sounds I heard were the thumps his body made as it writhed against the floor. But Kiplan isn’t the same as Zero. I realize that the scream doesn’t necessarily mean that anything is wrong, especially when the medic does not come back in despite definitely being able to hear Kip’s shrieks through the door.

           I can almost see the chip sending pain shooting through Kip’s every limb. His fingers clench in no particular rhythm against the arms of the chair, his legs kick out randomly but barely manage to move against the straps. It’s altogether different from Zero’s transfer, where he tucked himself into a shaking ball, his muscles clenched so tight that even the spasms could barely manage to move them. In Kip, it looks very similar to a traditional seizure, with his limbs kicking and spasming uncontrollably. The knowledge that I’ve caused him to feel this is almost physically painful for me, and I place a hand on his wrist as I count out the seconds, as much for myself as for him.

           I can’t even think about the fact that I voluntarily caused this level of pain in Zero. It was necessary for his training, I know, but I’m not sure I could have done it if I had known that the pain was this intense. But Zero’s pain tolerance is nearly super-human, and my knowledge of the Leash’s torture practices is limited. Safe to say, I’m being given an education.

           When the pain finally stops for Kip, I expect it to be similar to Zero’s reaction, but again they differ. Although Kip’s body immediately goes lax, his form still shakes even though the chip has stopped firing. His eyes continue to stare blankly at the ceiling, with no signs of him coming back to his senses. His breathing is erratic, mixing quick breaths and deep gasping ones in no particular order. His face is still ashen and pinched with pain, his skin clammy and covered in sweat. Where Zero began to calm and recover himself almost immediately, there’s no change in this pattern as I repeat Kiplan’s name and then give him a new access code. I check my Key and see Kip’s information come up under my assets, but still there’s no change in him.

           Finally, the medic quietly lets himself back in the room, pads over to where Kip is and flashes a penlight in his eyes. The medic frowns, and I feel my pulse jump, but he says, “It’s definitely a migraine.”

           “How long until he can be moved?” I wonder. I’d prefer to care for him in the privacy of my ship.

           “I’d like to give him a few more minutes, sir,” the medic says and starts undoing the straps on Kip’s ankles and wrists, “but I don’t think it will make much of a difference. Just as long as he doesn’t have an actual seizure, the migraine will fade on its own.”

           “Has that happened to him?” I ask, but the medic shakes his head.

           “It’s simply a reaction that we watch for, because of the migraines. He’s never had one, or we wouldn’t have sold him. Assets that badly damaged are cancelled immediately.”

           I think about that as I undo the straps on Kip’s head and take the gag out of his mouth. There’s a little blood on it, and I check his mouth to find that he must have caught his cheek at some point. There’s a small cut just behind his lip, bleeding sluggishly and not particularly worrisome. But it makes me think of how badly it could have gone with Zero, if he’d reacted this way.

           “Do you cancel all the assets that have medical problems?” I ask the medic as I hand him the gag.

           “Only ones that can’t be easily fixed. Cuts, breaks, and most diseases we can handle, but… I’m just a medic. I can’t handle anything more complicated, and they won’t pay for anyone more experienced.” I can see that he looks upset about it before he turns from me and puts the gag into a container of sanitizer.

           “So, have you been able to run any tests on Kiplan?” I’m keeping one eye on my newest asset as I talk to the medic. I see Kip stir, but his only movement is to close his eyes and turn his head. “Is this something treatable?”

           “I’ve done all the normal tests on an asset, and I can’t find anything wrong. Blood tests and neuro-scans don’t show anything abnormal, so it’s not a disease or a tumor. Anything more than that and he’d have to go to see an actual doctor with more training than I have. Unfortunately…”

           “...That’s not an option. I understand.” I put my hand on Kip’s neck and check his pulse, which has slowed to a more even tempo, as has his breathing. Still, he’s not regaining his senses. “Is there anything I can do for him during his migraines?”

           “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s nothing I know of to shorten them. Painkillers that are strong enough to alleviate the pain also leave him in a near-stupor, and he doesn’t need pills to make him sleep. The best that we can do here is to keep him away from light and sound so that he can sleep through it. Any closet will be enough for him, although I’m sorry to say that he won’t be much use while he’s in the worst of a migraine.” His gaze goes to my hand where it’s still laying on Kip’s throat, and he looks pained. He licks his lips and says very softly, “He’s a sweet boy, sir. I know that, whatever you have planned for him, he’ll do his best to serve you.”

           “He’s a spunky little thing,” I respond with a soft smile, my gaze lingering on Kip’s pained expression. “I like to tame boys with spunk,” I tell him, nodding my head toward where Zero is kneeling by the door, “but I don’t break them. He’s safer with me than anyone else.”

           “Of course, sir,” the medic says quickly, lowering his head submissively. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

           “Of course. Now, can you tell me how much longer we’ll need to wait?”

           The medic goes quickly to Kip’s other side and checks his pupils with the light again, takes his pulse at the wrist, and checks his mouth for blood. When Kiplan doesn’t respond, the medic tries shaking his shoulder firmly. I frown but allow it. Still, there’s no response from Kip.

           “He’s fine to go now, sir, but I can’t tell you when the migraine will abate. Most assets recover from a transfer in less than an hour, at least enough to move, but with the migraine on top of it Kip might not recover for several hours or a few days. He’ll be barely conscious until then.”

           “But is it safe to move him now? I don’t need him walking, I just need him in the ship.”

           “Oh, of course, sir. He can be loaded any time you’re ready. Shall I have a guard take him to your ship?”

           “No, there’s no need for that. Zero?” I call, and he’s obediently on his feet instantly, and by my side a moment later. “Bring Kip and follow me.”

           I try not to flinch when Zero takes one of Kip’s wrists and pulls him over his shoulder. I don’t correct him, because we’re in front of another asset and I don’t want rumors spreading that Zero isn’t as well-trained as I claim. I grit my teeth and remind myself that Kiplan is unconscious, that he can’t feel Zero’s rough treatment, and that as an owner I can’t be seen carrying him to the ship myself. It’s a short walk. He’ll survive. But I’m not happy about it.

           I feel that it’s something like karmic justice when Kiplan spews bile all down the back of Zero’s shirt. And if Zero wears the same shirt all the way back to our ship, it’s probably still just karma.


	6. A Nest of Tangled Wires and Strings - Kip POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! I hope 2016 is going great for my entire audience. I just started a new job and it's doing a bit of havoc on my sleeping schedule. Luckily I'm a bit ahead on what I've written, so the next couple updates are safe even is I'm cranky and can't find a minute to write. (Everybody hates the job the first couple weeks, right? Trying to stay optimistic, but I really hate being the new person. Lol!)
> 
> Once again, thanks to my entire support team: IntrepidEm, Marner, and Ygrainne. Without them, this wouldn't be possible!
> 
> Please remember to leave Kudos or Comments on what you like! And, if you get a chance, pop over to [Goodreads](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28066999-perfect-zero?from_search=true&search_version=service#other_reviews) and rate The Long Leash: Perfect Zero (Broken Doll will being going up as soon as I get a cover done.) Also, you can jump over to [My Website](http://ryoko21.weebly.com/) and take a look around. Eventually, I'd like to start putting poles and blogs up on the website, but I don't have the time right now. You can also find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ryoko21Fiction).

           It seems like my whole life is just noise and pain.

           Sometimes there are flashes of light. Sometimes bursts of noise. But for the most part, it’s only darkness and the sound of wind in my ears. My brain doesn’t work well enough to wonder why I’m hurting or how to stop it. My body is something distant from me. I can move my limbs, but the command and the reaction are somehow… disconnected. Sometimes I try to move my hand a little and it flails wildly. Sometimes it barely moves at all.

           Somewhere in my memory, I know that this is a transfer migraine. That this is probably the worst the pain will get, and that I just need to sleep and ride it out. But it’s a rational thought, and my mind isn’t rational right now. It’s a nest of tangled wires and strings. Pull the wrong one, get a jolt of pain. Best to let it alone, don’t think, just keep the pain to a dull roar. No electric shocks behind my eyes.  

The nausea that rolls over me is the worst. Suddenly my plan – to just sit quietly and pretend I don’t exist – is no longer viable. My physical body demands attention, and I have to move and see and hurt. Someone left a trash bin by my bed – I’m overwhelmingly grateful – and I don’t have to struggle to the bathroom. I gag and retch into the receptacle, bringing up liquid and bile. My throat stings and my eyes water. I can’t remember ever having this much in my stomach to purge. I can’t remember… I can’t remember anything.

When it finishes, I curl back onto the bed. My body is shaking with exhaustion, tears drying on my cheeks. My eyes feel gummy and unfocused, my mouth tastes horrible and my throat burns. Someone pulls me into a sitting position and another wave of nausea rolls over me, but there’s nothing left to come up. When that fades, he helps me take a few sips of water and then puts me back on my side. I can hear snippets of words being spoken. I can’t tell- Is he speaking to me? Or is there another person in the room?

“…keep an eye …shame… can’t keep anything down.” His fingers stroke through my hair gently. I want to lean in to the touch, but I can’t make my body move. “…dehydrated… makes the symptoms worse… need… I didn’t want to… Suppose it can’t be helped.”

I feel movement and someone takes my hand, and then I lose track of what’s happening. I’m pulled back by a sharp, stinging pain. I cry out and try to pull my hand back, but I’m too weak. After a few moments, the pain fades to a dull throb. The hand holding mine releases its grip, but I’m too exhausted to pull away.

“Can you hear me?” the soft voice asks, and I force myself to focus, but all I can see is the blurry outline of a person.

He must see my eyes open, though, because he says, “There you are. Now, I need you to focus for a moment for me. Can you do that?”

It takes almost more effort than I’m capable of, to nod my head in response. In the end, it’s probably more of a blink and a twitch, but it’s the best I can do.

“Okay, I need you to tell me if you’ve ever had any narcotics or sedatives that you reacted badly to. Anything that increased your nausea or the length or severity of your migraines? Any drug sensitivities at all?”

           It’s such a strange question that I take a moment to stare at him before shaking my head. I’m just a domestic asset. No one spends money on drugs for a domestic. Not unless they compete, and I haven’t been entered before. I’m just… I’m nothing.

           “Good. I’m going to help you get back to sleep now. Just relax, alright?”

           There’s movement then, and it’s nearly impossible to follow with how badly my eyes are focusing. I see a pair of hands when they still over my own – one hand is holding a syringe, the other is holding a piece of tubing that’s connected to a needle in the back of my hand. I follow the line of tubing until it disappears over the side of the bed, snaking down and back up until it disappears into a clear bag suspended on a metal pole. A fluid drip? Why would he bother with that? And what’s- What’s he injecting into the line?

           Panic spears through me, making me recoil in fear. His grip is too strong. I can’t get- I can’t get away!

“Please,” I hear myself whimper. “Please, I’m okay. I can get up! I can be useful! Please, don’t sell me to the labs.”

           His grip isn’t loosened by my pleas, and my arm doesn’t budge until he releases it. The syringe disappears and I sob softly, because it’s already too late. It’s in my veins now and there’s no way to stop it. My heart stutters- Is it because of fear? Or is it stopping forever?

           “Shh, you’re okay,” I hear him say. A pair of arms encircle me and pull me into a sitting position against a warm, firm chest. “Nobody’s selling you. You’re okay. I just want to help you sleep.”

           What does it matter if he’s lying? I’m already dead if he is. I grab the small comfort that he offers with both hands and wrap my heart around it. If I’m going to die, it will be with hope in my heart, instead of sadness and pain.

           Everything starts to feel very heavy. I let my cheek rest against the body behind me, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt against my cheek and the pleasant warmth of the body beneath. I can hear the steady drum of his heartbeat, so much slower and stronger than my own, and it soothes me. Everything is softer and slower, and I can’t manage to keep my eyes open.

           Eventually, the body pulls away from me. By that time, I feel so peaceful that I’m not even disappointed when he eases me back down to the bed. The pain in my head has dulled to a low rumble, and it seems far away from the rest of me.

           Someone is moving around the room, but I can’t convince my eyes to open. I feel something cool and damp being placed across the back of my neck, and then fingers gently running through my hair. I hear the sound of the covers being pulled up more than feel it, because my body is distant and dull again. I hear footsteps going away, the click of a door shutting. Then everything is dark and quiet. Even the flashes behind my eyes are dimmer, and the roar in my ears is a gentle breeze.

           And then I sleep.

           The next time I wake, it’s to the clear sound of voices and the feel of warm, running water.

           “…and try to keep his hand out of the spray. Gently! It’s not like there’s any rush.”

           I hear a sigh from above me, and realize that there are arms around me, holding me upright. There’s movement, and I’m shifted until I feel the water running down my torso. I realize that I’m naked, but I’m too dazed to be alarmed.  

           “Why couldn’t we just wipe him down again?”

           “Don’t whine,” the other voice chastises. “He needs to get clean, not like those rag-baths we were giving him.”

           Someone’s running a cloth down my chest and thighs. My skin feels itchy and tight, and the soapy water feels heavenly. I moan and roll my head to the side, trying to find the energy to open my eyes. I feel skin against my cheek and realize that it’s not my own. Whoever’s holding me is naked as well, and I can suddenly feel the firm lines of a body against my back as well as the arms around me.

           “Is he going to get sick on me?” says the person behind me, sounding both alarmed and annoyed. “Again?”

           “If he does, it’s your own fault for jostling him like that,” comes the second voice. It sounds amused. I flutter my lashes, trying to get my eyes to open. There’s water on my face, making it harder. “Looks like he’s coming around.”

           “Good, then he can stand on his own,” growls the voice behind me. I flutter my lashes and see dark, metallic eyes peering over my shoulder. I realize, belatedly, that it has to be Zero holding me. 

           “We’re almost done anyway. Just hold him for me,” comes the second voice, but I can’t keep my eyes open and I can’t see who it is. It can’t be who it sounds like. Not if it’s the person who’s bathing me.

           The cloth runs around my throat and then dips under my arms and down my legs. When that’s finished, the second person tilts my head under the spray and carefully wets and washes my hair. I want to help or at least hold myself up, but my attempts are no more than pathetic flailing. Zero just hisses, “Stop!” and the second person doesn’t acknowledge my movements at all.

           When the suds are gone, the water trickles to a stop. I try to hold myself up again, but my feet just kick at the ground, unable to find purchase. Zero is holding all my weight, while I sag against him. I try to get my eyes to open and focus again, but someone is toweling my hair dry. It makes me dizzy, and I focus on trying to ground myself while someone dries off the rest of me.

           “Hand him to me,” instructs the second voice. I find myself being immediately passed from one person to another, my damp form wrapped in a different soft, absorbent cloth than the one that just dried me. My eyes are still blurry, but I’m practically nose-to-nose with the person holding me. Even I can’t mistake my Master at a distance that far.

           I struggle, desperately, to get on my feet, but my energy is almost gone and my limbs barely twitch. I feel light and heavy at the same time. Sluggish, like I’ve been over-worked and passed out. It’s a feeling that I’m familiar with, but this time is different. I know that I’ve been asleep for at least a day. Maybe more? I cringe to think of how much time has passed with me being barely cognizant. And I still feel awful, with no telling how much longer this will go on. If I could only get up and show my new Owner that I’m worth all this trouble. 

           When my efforts fail to get me on my feet, I go limp again. Master Zeke lifts me effortlessly, with one hand around my shoulders and the other under my knees. I feel the warm skin of his chest pressing against my face and I realize that he’s naked as well. I blame it on exhaustion, but I don’t feel alarmed by this fact.

           Everything fades, and when it clears again I’m being set down on a bed. My towel is pulled away, and then Master Zeke pulls the sheets up around me. They smell nice, like they’ve been freshly changed. I feel my eyes starting to droop again, but I fight to keep them open.

           “I’m sorry for all of this,” I tell him softly. “I promise, I’ll get better! I’ll- You can do anything to me! I can-”

           “Shh,” he says softly, and pulls a chair next to the bed. I’m having trouble with- When did I start breathing so hard? “You’re alright. Calm down. You’re okay. Just take some deep breaths.”

           His fingers are carding through my hair, and I focus on the sensation as I take stilted, gasping breaths that eventually even out into a normal breathing pattern.

           “Are you actually with me this time?” Master Zeke asks, his voice soft. I notice that the only light in the room is from a small light on the wall, so I don’t have to squint my eyes against the brightness. Master Zeke is close enough that I can make out his face and see the terrycloth robe that he’s wearing. Everything beyond him is blurry and dream-like.

           “I’m… I think so,” I tell him honestly. “I feel a bit… floaty.”

           He chuckles softly, and the fingers continue brushing aimlessly against my hair.

           “I gave you something for the pain, but it had a greater effect than I intended. I think I might have overestimated your tolerance.”

           “Thank you,” I tell him. What else can I say? I want to ask why. Why would he bother? But that’s not a question that I would dare.

           “Well, it’s a bit my fault in the first place. I tried to get you to drink some broth after we brought you back, and it set off your nausea which made everything worse.”

           That sounds possible. There aren’t many people who have tried to feed me while I’m in the middle of a migraine, but we both regret it if they do. It’s usually better just to let me suffer in silence.

           “Thank you for trying. I’m sorry I was sick,” I offer weakly. It’s more than anyone’s done for me in a long time. And then the drugs, and the bath? I can’t even imagine why I would be given such treatment. Such value.

           “I’m fairly certain you’re not to blame,” he responds with a smile. “It’s not like you wanted to be sick.” I don’t know what to say to that, but he’s smiling at me, so I smile back. “So how are you feeling now?”

           “Much better,” I tell him quickly. “If you want me to start performing my duties…” I hesitate, because I’d forgotten that I’m a pleasure slave now. I don’t- I haven’t-… It’s been so long since I serviced a master. Not since I was first bought as a domestic asset, and my owner sampled me. I had a refresher course at the Oasis, of course, but it was just a few other assets giving me tips.

           Will I even be able to satisfy Master Zeke? I feel my hands start to tremble. He spent a lot of money on me, not to mention waiting while I was unconscious. And the medicine! I don’t think there’s any way I’ll be able to perform to his expectations. Not with my body still feeling weak from the drugs and lingering sickness. I feel tears come to my eyes. Did I come all this way just to fail now?

           “When I asked how you were feeling, I just wanted to know,” he says calmly. “Calm down now. I promise, I won’t ask again.”

           “S-sorry,” I stutter, trying desperately to fight down the tears. I don’t want to be seen as weak, as a complainer. When I fail to hold them at bay, Master Zeke runs his thumb across my cheek and wipes them away.

           “I need you to answer me honestly,” he says, and his voice is more serious now. “Does your head still hurt?”

           “It’s-…” I start, but I don’t want to lie to him so soon after being asked for honesty. “A little.”

           “And the nausea?”

           “Mostly gone, but… I’m not sure I should eat anything.”

           He nods, his eyes scanning my face.

           “Alright, we won’t try any foods until tomorrow. I’m going to set you up with one last round of fluids.” He’s moving already, getting up and moving into the blurry space away from the bed. I glance down at my hand, where I can still feel the pinch of a needle. The tube is still there, capped off and taped against my wrist. Master Zeke comes back and blocks my line of sight with his hands. I let my eyes slip closed – I’m so tired already – and when they open again, the next bag has already been hooked up. I see Master Zeke injecting something into the line. I catch myself just before I protest, but Master Zeke must have noticed my distress. “I promise, no sedatives this time and I’ll dial it back on the painkillers. I just want to wean you off gradually, so that the headache doesn’t come back. We’ll talk more tomorrow, when you’re feeling better.”

           “Yes, sir,” I say softly.

          He finishes and sets the needle aside, then quirks that enigmatic smile at me again, and I’m at a loss for how to react. I’ve never received this much attention from an owner before. What should I do?

          “You’re doing just fine,” he says. I blink confusedly. Did I say that out loud? But he just continues with, “I know this is hard. I know you’re sick and confused and afraid.” His fingers come back to my hair, brushing my bangs away from my face. “But just focus on getting better right now. We’ll deal with everything else when you’re feeling better. Okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” I say, because everything is starting to feel soft and floaty again. The pinched feeling in my head has faded, and I find myself smiling at Master. He sighs, his fingers still running through my hair, but then a smile slips over his face.

“That’s okay. I suppose I should have said something before I gave you more painkillers.”

I just smile. It’s so hard to think. My new Master is so pretty. I’d just like to stare into his eyes for a while. The blue reminds me of sitting in my grandmother’s kitchen. Her china was the most pale and lovely shade of blue, handed down all the way from Earth. I can remember spending long afternoons with her, washing dishes or chopping vegetables. The artificial sunlight streaming through the back window. The soft breeze of the filtration system blowing through the threadbare kitchen curtains. The feel of the cracked linoleum under my bare feet, and her soft voice humming wordless songs as she worked. 

I lose myself in memories, and don’t even notice when Master Zeke slips away.

Or when my eyes slide closed.

Or when I fall gently into a dreamless sleep.


	7. Lunch and Backgrounds - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'd never imagine how much time I have to put into the indents on this f-ing fic. Like, can no word processor manage to keep ALL of my indents when I transfer to rich text? We live in the future, people! Get it together! 
> 
> Once again, thanks to my entire support team: IntrepidEm, Marner, and Ygrainne. Without them, this wouldn't be possible!
> 
> Please remember to leave Kudos or Comments on what you like! And, if you get a chance, pop over to [Goodreads](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28066999-perfect-zero?from_search=true&search_version=service#other_reviews) and rate The Long Leash: Perfect Zero (Broken Doll will being going up as soon as I get a cover done.) Also, you can jump over to [My Website](http://ryoko21.weebly.com/) and take a look around. Eventually, I'd like to start putting poles and blogs up on the website, but I don't have the time right now. You can also find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ryoko21Fiction).

           Kip recovers slowly, far more slowly than I’d like. He spends the better part of a week catatonic, drugged to just this side of consciousness. I keep him on a fluid drip to keep him hydrated, and dose him with painkillers and sedatives to keep him comfortable. I’d feel better if he were under the supervision of a real doctor, but it’s not an option. Instead, I consult with the Department’s medical staff and keep a close eye on Kip’s condition. With no obvious cause and no way to do more extensive testing, the only option I’m left with is to wait and see if his condition improves. Thankfully, toward the end of the week the migraine seems to fade. Kip starts to sleep more restfully and begins to speak more lucidly while he’s awake. 

           While I’m preoccupied with Kip’s health, Zero dives head first into his training. I don’t really know if it’s because my attention is elsewhere and I’m not able to restrict his exercise, or if he’s simply feeling better and excited that I’ve given him tentative permission to compete. Either way, my previous restrictions on the amount and severity of his training have pretty much evaporated, and I’ve found Zero more than once panting and sweating on the way to a shower.

           Like now.

           “Don’t you think you overdid it a bit?” I ask as he slinks into the bedroom. The cutoff pants he’s been wearing are in tatters. It’ll be the third time I’ve had to replace them. My sleepwear is getting low, and I realize that I’m going to have to make time to stop to buy clothes for Zero and Kip. I’d only had the forethought to buy Zero an outfit to wear to the Oasis, and we’d left in too much of a hurry to buy more. That outfit, unfortunately, hadn’t allowed for the range of motion he needs for his workouts - like my drawstring sleeping pants do. I’m pretty sure he’d prefer to practice without any clothes at all. It’s just my requirement that he come back unbruised and unscratched that keeps him in the least amount of clothing allowed.

           Zero is dripping sweat, and the waistband of his shorts is soaked. He drops his pants as he comes through, flipping them into the hamper with his foot. Naked and covered in sweat, I’m tempted to climb into the shower with him. Instead, I lean against the wall as he starts the water and steps in.

           “I did not injure myself,” Zero defends. “I can’t advance without exertion.”

           I can’t really argue with that, I suppose. After all, the results of his training are fairly pleasing to the eye. Now that he’s fully healed and I don’t have to hold him back from hurting himself, his training is really having an effect. His body is filling out and putting back on the weight he lost during his transfer. At the same time, he isn’t so much bulking up as gaining tone. His muscles are lean and compact, his body hard and trim. The water cascades over him, highlighting the definition of his chest and abs, and I have the urge to kneel and lick my way up his torso.

           “I’m going to try to get Kiplan up,” I say instead. “I’d like to see if he can eat something for lunch.”

           Zero lathers, and I watch the soap slide down his body. His back is to me now, and the suds follow the line of his spine until they disappear between the cheeks of his ass. I just want to run my fingers along the slick curve of his ass and- Damn it! This is getting ridiculous. It’s like I’m a teenager again!

           I drag my eyes away from his ass as Zero says, “Is he going to wake up for you?” I have to replay our conversation to remember that he’s talking about Kiplan.

           “He only seemed exhausted yesterday, so I think the migraine might be gone.”

           “Mm,” Zero says as he turns off the water and turns on the forced air system in the shower. The excess water runs down his body, and he steps out a few seconds later mostly dry.

           “You don’t seem too interested in my new asset,” I comment, hoping to draw him out. Zero’s been behaving strangely the last few days. Distant. If there’s something going on with him, I’d like to deal with it now. But he just shrugs.

           “What’s there to be interested in?” he questions. The tone isn’t disrespectful, but it’s the same abrupt kind of language Zero always uses. “He’s a broken domestic.”

           I bristle at the comment, retorting with, “You know, you were a broken combat when you came to me.”

           “I was injured,” Zero responds. “This one is sickly and weak.”

           “He’s damaged,” I admit, “but there’s a lot of promise in him, too. Give him a chance.”

           “If he even survives this,” Zero says, “he’ll still be weak. I don’t understand why you bought him.”

           I can’t, honestly, even explain it myself. I’m not really sure why Kiplan stood out to me above all the other stronger, better trained assets. As Zero said, Kip is trained as a domestic, where I was looking for a pleasure asset who could show Zero how to perform. But I liked Kip’s spunk and attitude, where the other assets seemed to lack heart. I can only hope that my intuition was right.

           “Migraines are often triggered by stress,” I respond. “There’s a good chance that, if we can get him through this migraine and put him in a less stressful environment, he’ll probably stop having so many issues.”

           “Maybe,” Zero says dismissively. I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I move into the bedroom and dig him out another pair of sweatpants. He catches them easily when I toss them and gives me a nod of thanks. It’s nice, how we’ve fallen into a more easy relationship. He still submits to me without question, sometimes excessively so, but he’s begun to relax around me. He seems to have gotten used to my presence, more than anything, and he’s no longer nervous just because I’m near. And although Zero’s cold, abrupt attitude sometimes gets to me, I still enjoy his honest and straight-forward nature. His strength and determination are impressive, too.  

           “Try to be nice to him,” I request as Zero rolls up the pant-legs and puts them on. He’ll cut off the excess fabric later. “He’s had a rough few days.”

           Zero grunts in response, and I let it go. Either he’ll obey me or he won’t. To be honest, I probably won’t be able to tell the difference.

           Kiplan is in the next bedroom over. My bed is large, but it would be a bit of a squeeze with three full-grown men and I don’t want to cramp Kip while he’s ill. Kip is in a smaller room with a single bed, a small bathroom, and a narrow shower stall. My room has a much larger shower, which is where we bathed him while he was still insentient. Zero had assisted without complaint, but once again gave off an air of annoyance that I’ve had to chalk up to his disagreement with my choice of a second asset.

           Kip looks skeletal and frail, with deep bruises under his eyes and a yellowish sheen to his skin. Even his hair has lost some of its luster, laying lank against his head even now that it’s clean. At least the grimace of pain is gone from his face, and his breathing seems even and deep. He hasn’t shown any signs of nausea in two days, and while I’m reluctant to disturb his sleep I don’t think laying around is helping him at this point.

           I kneel next to the bed and run my fingers through his bangs. As I had hoped, he stirs slowly, his eyes blinking open and focusing blearily on my face. I smile at him, and for a moment he stares innocently at me. His silver eyes shimmer brightly, and he seems calm and relaxed. Then his eyes widen in surprise and he jerks himself up.

           “Master Zeke!” he gasps, but the abrupt movement is too much for him and he tilts dizzily, almost tumbling from the bed. I grab his shoulders and lean him back against the headboard. His eyes close and his hands clutch at my shirt, and his face goes pale enough for me to worry that he’s going to be sick again. The trash bin is still sitting by the bedside, rinsed and sanitized from the last time he needed it. I had hoped it wouldn’t get used again, but now I’m not so sure.

           Eventually, Kip calms and his eyes flutter open. He murmurs, “Sorry,” and I can only smile.

           “Nothing to be sorry for. How are you feeling?” I ask. Kip blinks slowly at me, like it’s taking him a long time to process my words.

           Finally, he says, “I don’t know. I feel… strange.”

           I frown and ask, “Does it hurt?”

           “No,” he says quickly, then, “Just… kind of floaty.”

           Ah.

           “You’ve been on a lot of medications the last few days. Some of them are still in your system.”

           He swallows thickly and asks, “What medications?”

           “A sedative and a painkiller. I would have given them to you orally, but you haven’t been able to keep anything down.” I gesture to the I.V. still inserted in a vein in the back of his hand, an empty I.V. bag hanging from a pole next to the bed. “I had to give you fluids as well.”

           I’ve sent his blood samples and body scans to the medics at the Department, but they haven’t been able to find anything abnormal. A hospital might have more luck detecting the root of his problem, but I only have the ship’s basic scanners and detection equipment at my disposal. Migraines and other problems of the brain are apparently some of the most difficult issues to diagnose and treat, even in the best of conditions. Unfortunately, with a range of possible causes including but not limited to the unknown tech in his head, Kip’s options for relief are mostly superficial. Treat the symptoms, the medics had advised me, and hope the cause goes away on its own. 

           “Oh,” he says softly, his voice laced with fuzzy, drugged surprise. “How long was I down?”

           “It’s been eight days since we left The Oasis.”

           His eyes go wide. His body jerks with surprise.

           “Please don’t sell me!” he begs, tears leaping to his eyes. Damn. I’d hoped to avoid this. And we were having such a nice conversation, too. “I can be useful! Please!”

           “Shhh,” I quiet him, pushing back to the bed once again. “Why would I put the effort into healing you if I was planning to sell you?” I argue. He blinks at me, and the tears fade rapidly. It’s probably as much because of the drugs he’s on as my calming personality.

           “You’re not mad?” he asks, his voice timid.

           “No,” I respond, and try to keep my voice soothing. “Now, I want to get you out of bed for a while. Do you think you can do that?”

           “Yes, Master,” he responds immediately. It’s obvious that he’s eager to obey and that his actual ability to get up isn’t on his mind.

           “Take it slow,” I caution. “You’ve been on your back for the better part of a week.”

           He doesn’t listen. With seeing Zero push himself too far so many times, I should be used to seeing my assets overestimate their limits. Still, it surprises me when Kip pushes himself out of the bed. His knees immediately buckle when he tries to put any weight on them, sending him toward the floor. I’m surprised enough that I can’t catch him in time to put him back on the bed, instead slowing his descent so he lands softly. The I.V. stand rattles but doesn’t fall.

           “Sorry,” he says again, but I’m not going to let this one develop into a panic.

           “It’s fine,” I cut him off, perhaps more curtly than I’d been hoping. He whimpers and drops his head, so I say more gently, “I’m not mad. Do you think you can get back on the bed if I help you?”

           He nods his head instead of responding, but I don’t really expect more. He shifts first, but I support most of his weight as I help him stand, then sit on the side of the bed.

           “Let’s get this disconnected,” I offer as he sits quietly, dejectedly. He holds his hand out to me, his head still tilted forward and his hair concealing his face.

           On the bedside table there are some cotton swabs and bandages. I gently peel the tape off of Kip’s hand and then remove the needle, catching a few drops of blood with the cotton before covering the mark with a bandage. Kip flexes the injured hand, testing it for pain. It should be relatively painless, and the mark itself is likely to be gone by tomorrow.

           “Thank you, Master Zeke,” Kip says as he drops his hand. His words are too formal, but I try to smile anyway.

           “How about clothes next?” I offer quietly, and Kip seems to perk up a bit. He glances at me through his bangs, his eyes glimmering hopefully. I smile and say, “Zero doesn’t mind being naked, but I thought you might feel differently.”

           Kips clothes from the Oasis are still dirty, since Zero is roughly as good at laundry as he is at cooking. It must be a leftover from his time in the Labs. Anything that would be done in bulk by the staff, such as laundry and cooking, he has no experience in. He goes for military-style cleanliness anywhere else, though, including medical-grade overuse of chemicals. I’ve been too preoccupied with Kip to put anything in the auto-wash. So Kip’s original clothes are still in a vomit-scented ball in the hamper, and Zero’s workouts have basically exhausted my supply of drawstring pants. As the only option left, I snagged one of my button-downs from the bedroom earlier.

           Kip holds out his arms obediently, and I help him into the soft, cotton fabric. It’s a pale blue color that makes him look just a bit less washed out. As I expected, it hangs off his shoulders and comes down to his mid-thigh. Kip is able to slip his arms in the holes on his own, but the buttons prove to be too complicated for him at the moment. I kneel and button the shirt, concealing Kip’s milky-white skin as I go.

           “You think you’re up to lunch now?” I ask as I stand. Kip eyes flick to my face.

           “Oh! Oh, yes, of course! What would you like me to make?”

           I laugh softly and say, “Maybe we’ll try that later in the week. Come on, I’ll help you walk to the kitchen.”

           He’s still unsteady and shaky on his feet, so he leans heavily against me as we walk. Kip weighs next to nothing, so half-carrying him isn’t a problem. How light he is, however, is a bit more of a concern.

           I get him in the kitchen and settle him at the table. Zero has set three place-settings like I requested, although I doubt Kip will be able to eat much. Kip looks curiously at the table and the settings, but seems stable enough. I leave him at the table as I slip over to the fridge and grab the sandwiches that I made earlier for me and Zero. I pop some toast in for Kip after I put the plates on the table, then make Kip some weak tea while the toast heats. Zero slips in and settles beside Kip at the round table, but I motion for him to move over to the next seat. I don’t feel the need to keep them separated, but I doubt Zero will be much help if Kip can’t hold down his lunch. I use my foot to slide a waste bin closer to his chair as I sit three glasses of water at the table before grabbing Kip’s tea and toast.

           When I finally sit down, Zero is already eating his sandwich – turkey and cheddar on rye – and nibbling on the chips that surround it. It’s nothing fancy, but Zero doesn’t complain. Kip is blinking his eyes rapidly, looking around in blurry-eyed confusion. For a moment I think that perhaps the drugs have made him confused again, but then I realize he’s staring at the three plates at table. I wonder, for the first time, if other Owners don’t allow their assets to eat with them. But that, I think, is probably a conversation for another time.

           “Try to eat something,” I prompt Kip, who is still staring at his plate of plain, white toast. “We’ll get you more if that stays down, but you should probably start slow.”

           “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master,” he says, and hurries to lift the toast to his mouth, nibbling at the corner.

           “You don’t have to be so formal,” I tell him casually, hoping that it won’t sound like a correction. “It’s okay if you don’t address me at the end of every sentence. And you can use ‘sir’ in place of ‘master’ if you’d like.”

           “Yes, Ma- Sir,” he stutters.

           “It’s okay, just eat for now,” I tell him, and lapse into silence. It’s not an uncommon situation when it’s only me and Zero here, but it seems awkward now that Kip has been added to the mix. 

           Kip eats slowly, rotating between bites of toast and sips of tea. Zero finishes his food before Kip has even managed a whole piece of toast, and I let him put his dish in the sink and leave. I’ve cleared a few hours of my schedule for Kip, but I doubt Zero has the patience to stay with us. It’s probably better that he heads back to his training.

           It’s just Kip and me, then. The clink of dishes moving is the only noise. I’ve finished my plate and nurse a cup of coffee, mostly for something to do while Kip eats.

           “Where did you live before you became an asset?” I ask before I can stop myself. I hear Kip pause in sipping his tea, but I don’t want to make him nervous so I keep my eyes cast away, like the comment was offhanded. 

           “I’m from Satellite 19 originally, sir.”

           19 is a lower-middle-class satellite. Not quite the crime-riddled hole that Zero was stationed on with Satellite 16, but it’s definitely known for organized crime. Still, I’ve heard that some of the areas are nicer than others, and in general it’s not a terrible place to live. I have to wonder where they could hide an entire group of clone children. How would that even be cost-effective? 

           Most clone children, born as infants in an identical group, are raised for a specific purpose. Companies or satellites often create clones as a cheap labor force if their population is declining, and then offer incentives for individuals to raise the children. Others, like Zero, are part of unethical and often illegal experiments into perfecting human biology to create superior soldiers. 

           Zero, as part of a failed experiment, was salvaged from a more expensive project. As a first-generation clone, his eyes are a dark, metallic gray and his hair hasn’t taken the pale hue of a clone that’s been copied many times. He also isn’t susceptible to any of the issues that crop up in later generations of clones, as the original genetic code gets worn out. Kiplan is a much less rare find, and his light eyes and hair attest to the fact that he’s a very late copy of the original. It’s typical for these later-generation clones to display weaker constitutions and higher susceptibility to illness, along with a range of other genetic anomalies. Even Kip’s height could be an issue from the worn genetic code, although it could be by design as well. Perhaps his group was one of the last before that particular genetic code had to be retired. I can only wonder about his origins and my curiosity gets the best of me.

           “Who raised you?” I ask. “Do you know where you came from?”

           He shakes his head, then makes a face as the movement makes him woozy again. He stills and shuts his eyes, and then looks up when it appears to pass.

           “I don’t know anything about the people who made me,” he says honestly. “My batch was dropped into the foster system on Satellite 19.”  He uses the slur “batch” a little too easily to describe himself. Satellite 19 must not be very accepting of clones. “I know… I know it’s not normal for clones to go into foster care.”

           That’s true enough. Satellites that can pay for a cloned workforce usually set them up in boarding schools, training them from a young age to serve and cater to the wealthier, natural-born citizens of the Satellite. This practice has become increasingly unpopular in the last several decades, as clones have gained equal status with natural-born citizens. Some places have even outlawed the creation of clones unless set up in a household with a parent or guardian. 

           Placing a clone into a normal parental household, actually, is the more cost-effective option. Most companies already employ that practice, although the companies usually enforce mandatory schooling for the clone, ensuring a talented worker when the clone comes of age. This practice has also come under scrutiny and is not without it’s drawbacks for the child. In particular, there are supposed to be fail-safes in place for any cloned children whose parents are unable to care for them. That’s the ideal, though, and not always the reality. Often times, companies in need of a workforce create a set of clone children and then offer incentives to employees to care for them. If the company goes under, sometimes the parents will continue to support their non-biological children. Sometimes, life isn’t so kind. 

           “I think…” he continues, hesitantly. “I think The Leash was always involved with my life. Like, I don’t think they created me, but I think they got my batch very young. I think they snuck us into the foster system to… well… to grow us until we’d be old enough to sell.”

           The seems possible. If a company goes under and has no support system set up for the children, they could easily end up being abandoned as a group. In that case, they are supposed to be taken in by the nearest Satellite and fostered out. However, if a company is not attached to a particular Satellite or is in between ports at the time (likely only because there is a fee to park a commercial ship at any Satellite) the clones could be refused. Specifically, if they nearest Satellite is already poor or overpopulated, they might refuse custody of the cones. Could that be how The Leash got Kip’s group? Maybe a Leash owner in a political or government position managed to exploit the situation? They could have easily snuck the group into the foster-care roster, keeping track of them for later collection. Then the owner could have pocketed the money for selling a large batch of clones into The Leash, without having to pay for their creation or upbringing. All the cost would be transferred onto the citizens of Satellite 19.

           Still curious, I let Kiplan continue. 

           “My earliest memories are of my gr- of the woman who took me in.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes sad and far away. “I was very lucky. I was taken in by an elderly widow who needed the supplemented income. My gram-…” he cuts himself off again, and I realize what he’s not saying.

           “It’s okay,” I tell him softly. “Did she let you call her Grandmother?”

           He nods miserably, and it’s obvious that he misses her even after all this time. “I thought she was my Grandma Corey until I was old enough to realize what my eyes meant. Everyone else knew, of course, that she wasn’t actually my gram. She told people that her son had adopted a clone and she’d taken me in when he died. The truth was, her husband and her sons had all been involved in inter-Satellite organized crime. When they died, a friend had set her up with me so that she could survive.” He smiles softly at the memory, and it makes his face look a bit less strained and ill. “She called me her little pension plan sometimes, but she was very kind to me. She treated me like I was really her child.” His face goes dark again. “I don’t think she was supposed to, though. I think they wanted her to train me to be subservient, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.”

           “What makes you think that?” I wonder.

           “When I was captured and brought to the Oasis for training, none of the other boys were as surprised or upset as I was. It was almost like they expected it. And most of them… Well, they weren’t nearly as naïve as I was. I don’t think they’d been treated very well.” That doesn’t surprise me. Even without the influence of the Leash, young clones are notoriously susceptible to abuse.

           “You weren’t raised with the other clones?” He shakes his head.

           “They kept us separated, probably so we didn’t attract too much attention. I didn’t even know there were other clones of me on my Satellite until I woke up to a roomful of boys with my face.”

           “That must have been a shock. Did they take you from you home?”

           “No, sir. I- um,” he hesitates nervously. “My grandmother knew they were going to collect me. It was part of the deal when she got me. She didn’t know for what, but she knew it couldn’t be good.” Telling the foster-parents about the collection was a risky move, but I can understand how it might work in a place with commonplace corruption like Satellite 19. If the foster-parents were aware of the plan for the young clones, the parents would be less likely to get attached. The Leash, then, wouldn’t have to deal with concerned relatives trying to find the missing individuals, as they might with a traditional kidnapping. “Gramma Corey couldn’t stand the thought of what would happen to me when they took me. She sat me down just before my eighteenth birthday and explained everything, then gave me some money and told me to run.” That would be the risk the Leash owner took from informing the foster-parents about his intent to collect the young clones when they reached adulthood. “I didn’t make it very far. They caught me a day later.” Probably prepared for some of them to run, then. Maybe even watching them beforehand. Just how strong is this organization? “I’ve always worried about what happened to my grandmother when I ran away,” he looks miserable again, tears springing to his eyes. “She’s probably dead by now. Her health wasn’t very good when I was with her, and that was years ago.”

           Damn, that’s depressing. I can’t think of much else I need to know about Kip’s background. My other questions, about the range of the Leash’s influence and their long-term human trafficking operations, are not things that Kip is likely to know. At least now I am aware that Kip had a fairly normal childhood, all things considered. Unlike Zero, Kip probably won’t have nearly as difficult a time acting normal and adapting to life with me. I can only hope that watching Kip can help Zero adjust.

           To change topics, I ask him, “You said you woke up at the Oasis. Do you remember anything about having your chip installed?”

          “No, sir,” he says, and I see the painful memories slip away. “No mark, no tenderness, just the pain in my head whenever it was activated. Master Reynard was my original dealer. He’d hoped to sell me as a pleasure asset, but there wasn’t much call for my batch, so a few of us got sold off as domestics.”

           Zero also has no memories of the chip being installed, but I had hoped that it was simply because he lived in the Labs and was used to being tested on. Having some idea of how the chip was inserted could help me figure out how to remove it. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem likely. 

           “You said Reynard sold you as a domestic?”

           “Yes, sir. My last owner had several assets that he trained in gourmet cooking, along with a few pleasure assets and some guards.”

From the sound of if, Kip’s last owner had been well-established, with more than the beginner’s six assets available.

“Did he compete in the domestic competition?”

“No, not any more. He won several competitions in that class, then decided to retire to focus on his catering business.”

           “Catering?”

           “Yes, sir. He trained his assets in the culinary arts, then rented us to different locations for special events. We were considered live-in employees, but the truth is that we were simply well-trained assets.”

           Well, that’s an interesting idea. I suppose I’d been hoping that the abuse is contained only to a select number of men being used for personal pleasure. I shiver to imagine an entire workforce of enslaved people who can be disciplined and controlled by a single person’s voice. It’s a chilling thought.

           “So, are you any good at cooking?”

           “Yes, sir,” Kip says and smiles, but I can see the pinched look returning to his face and I realize the drugs from last night must be totally leaving his system. I think he’s probably over the worst of his migraine, but I don’t want to chance having it return.

           “I’m going to give you something for your headache,” I tell him, but he gets a frightened look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

           “I’m sorry, Master Zeke, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep them down,” he says, his eyes dropping to his unfinished plate of toast.

           “Keep… Oh, no. I’ll use a patch on you. I know your stomach has been queasy,” I assure him. “Stay here a moment. I’ll grab one and then we’ll go to the den for a bit.”

           I leave Kip at the table for a moment while I slip down to the medical bay and grab a patch. I decide that it would be easier to apply the patch in the den, so when I return I help Kip walk down to the den and settle on the couch. He makes no protest, although I can feel his form beginning to shake again.

           “Have you ever had a medical patch before?” I ask him, and he shakes his head. “They don’t hurt, but it is going to feel very rough and abrasive against your skin at first. After a couple minutes, you won’t be able to feel it at all, but it’s going to deliver a small amount of pain medication directly into your bloodstream for the next twelve hours. Can you tilt your head forward?”

           Kiplan obeys immediately, his chin-length hair falling forward in a cascade to expose the back of his neck. I run my fingers across the pale skin, brushing away a few stray hairs, then peel the back off of the square, palm-sized patch.

           The back of a medical patch is covered in hundreds of tiny, bristly hairs that resemble Velcro. When applied to the skin, these hairs are able to microscopically pierce the skin, where they slowly dissolve, releasing a constant, high-dose supply of medication. The effects are almost immediate, very closely resembling an injection or an I.V. A sticky strip along the outside keeps the patch adhered to the skin, and it has less side-effects than ingesting medication and is less invasive than an injection. The only real side-effects are some discomfort during the application and skin irritation where the bristles are inserted. Overdosing is a common problem since the patches deliver a constant stream of medication over a long period, and it’s easy to accidentally take another medication. I’m not concerned about it, though, since Kip will be getting all his medications from me.

           “This might feel a bit uncomfortable at first,” I warn him, smoothing the fabric along his neck. He whimpers, but doesn’t pull away. When the patch is secure, I spend a moment running my fingers along his scalp, shifting my fingers through his hair. He murmurs in pleasure, leaning in to my touch. When I pull back he lifts his eyes to mine, and I can already see the drugs taking effect. A small smile is playing on his face, and the tension has drained out of his shoulders. At least, I think, his nervousness is gone.

           “Scoot over,” I ask him, and grab my tablet as I slide onto the couch beside him. I have a hundred things I need to do – emails to answer, profiles to look at, not to mention things relating to my company and my finances – but I also want to spend time with Kiplan, getting him used to my presence. I can’t help but think of my first days with Zero as I snag a blanket from the back of the couch and put it over Kip, who’s leaning back in a very sleepy and loopy manner. The movement makes him look at me, and I see a hint of uncertainty return to his features.

           “What should I do, Master?” he asks me, but I can tell from the way his voice trails that he’s already starting to doze off.

           “Just rest a bit,” I tell him, then follow with, “It’s okay if you doze off,” because I damn well learn from my mistakes.

           Kip is very different from Zero, though. When I pull him against me, Kip’s body is far from rigid and uncertain. He molds himself instinctively against me, actively seeking the comfort of my touch. I can’t say that it’s better than Zero, because there’s something alluring about the deadly innocence of my soldier, but this ease is nice as well. And it’s far easier with this asset, who seems more social and better adjusted than Zero. Perhaps he’ll be able to help Zero learn to adapt after all.

           “Sleep a while,” I tell him, already pulling out my tablet as Kip curls up along my side, “I’ll wake you for dinner, then bed. For now, just worry about sleeping and healing.”


	8. Midnight Mistakes - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day early - because I felt like it. ;)
> 
> Once again, thanks to my entire support team: IntrepidEm, Marner, and Ygrainne. Without them, this wouldn't be possible!
> 
> Please remember to leave Kudos or Comments on what you like!

           I’m awakened from a dead sleep by a cry of fear and the sound of an impact. I sit up quickly and glance around, but Zero isn’t in the bed next to me. That isn’t surprising in itself, as Zero sleeps in short clips between repeated surveillance checks. Across the room, I can see two shadowed figures against the far wall. I roll out of bed and land on my knees, ducking down for cover. I snag my pulse gun from the bedside table, then use an audio command to cue on the lights.

The bright lights are almost blinding with their sudden intensity. Zero has Kip pinned to the wall, one arm pressed against his throat. Kip’s hands are clutching at Zero’s arm, obviously struggling to breathe, his eyes wide and frightened. His mouth moves, but the only sound he makes is a strained wheeze as Zero leans on his airway. Zero’s naked form is tense, his stance set wide, one arm pulled back in a threatening fist. Kip, on the other hand, is flush against the wall, his feet just barely touching the floor. He’s still wearing the blue button-down top, which billows around him as he struggles.

           “Zero, it’s just Kip! You can let go,” I tell him, the tension easing from my body even though my heart is still racing. I stand and return my gun to its place by the bed. When I turn back, however, Zero still has Kip pinned by his throat, although his fist has been lowered to his side.

           “Zero?” I question.

“He shouldn’t have been in here, Master,” Zero growls. Kip has stopped struggling, but he’s still staring at Zero with wide-eyed fear. “He’s a security risk.”

“Zero,” I say in a calm, firm tone. “Put him down. Now.”

He hesitates, and I feel the tension returning to the room. Is Zero really going to pick a fight over this? Because he can’t possibly think that scrawny, sickly, unarmed Kiplan is an actual threat. And even if he does, I can’t let Zero think his opinions override my direct orders. I can’t let this kind of deliberate disobedience go unchecked, and certainly not in someone as strong as Zero. I’ve got no choice. If he defies me, I’ll have to discipline him. What method of discipline I’ll use is more of a problematic decision, given what I know of Zero’s physical durability and how little I know of the chip’s effects.

           Finally, after what seems like an epic standoff, Zero gives a displeased grunt and pulls away from Kip, storming out of the room a moment later. I let Zero go as Kip slides to the floor, coughing and shaking. Moments later, I’m kneeling next to Kip’s quaking, gasping form.

“Sorry!” he pants, “I didn’t mean- I thought- I wasn’t-”

“Calm down and take a deep breath. You aren’t in trouble.”

“I didn’t mean to come in here! I just- I didn’t know where I was or what I was supposed to be doing! I thought- I thought I was in the slave wing, that Zero might be next door and he could tell me! I’m sorry! I didn’t-”

“It’s okay. Zero just has a bit of a hair trigger. You aren’t in trouble for being in here.”

He looks at me miserably, his hands hanging limply by his sides like he’s afraid to even move them. With how skittish Kip has been and how shy he seems to be, this is a big setback in my efforts to get him to trust me. When I reach out my fingers to touch his throat, he flinches back from me. I’m not surprised, but it gives me a pang of regret. I’d been hoping that we’d be able to get past that soon.

I ignore that flinch and put my fingers on Kip’s chin, gently tilting it up so I can see where Zero pinned him. His neck is red and might bruise in some places, but it doesn’t look like Zero did any serious damage. I give a mental sigh of relief and sit back.

“It looks like you’re going to be okay. Do you think you can stand?”

He nods hesitantly and takes my hand when I help him to his feet. He stands unsteadily, wavering back and forth, and I keep a hand on his elbow so he doesn’t fall. His eyes seem fever bright again, although I can’t find that pinched look of pain on his face. I brush his bangs away from his face and take in the flushed look of his cheeks and the tired slump of his shoulders. It seems likely that he’s probably just exhausted and stressed, maybe a little over-medicated again.

           “Turn around,” I instruct him, and ignore the tensing of his shoulders as he turns from me. I brush his hair away from his neck and peel away the medical strip from earlier. The skin below is red and irritated, but that’s not unusual for this kind of treatment. I toss the used strip into the trash.

           “Come sit down,” I instruct, giving him a nudge toward the bed. He sits hesitantly on the edge, like he might to bolt any second. I withhold a sigh and push him further back, lifting his legs to slide them onto the bed. It makes him tense up more.

           “Listen,” I say calmly, because I don’t want to scare him. His fearful eyes come to my face, but he doesn’t flinch back this time. “I know you’re a little out of it right now, and I can’t have you wandering around the ship and getting hurt,” I tell him stroking my knuckles down the side of his face. “I also realize that you’re afraid and exhausted. So I’m going to let you sleep with me and Zero tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll work out better arrangements. But for right now, this is the best plan I have. Nothing will happen to you. You are not in trouble. Now, I need you to wait here while I go find Zero, alright?”

           He nods and settles back into the bed, pulling his knees against his chest and covering them with his shirt. I want to lean in and kiss him. He’s one of mine now, and he’s frightened and hurting. I don’t, though, because I know that it would only scare him. Instead, I pull back and turn to find Zero.

           Zero hasn’t gone far. I find him in the cockpit again, doing something that I don’t understand with the screens (which is impressive, because I know how to pilot this ship, but my skills are apparently nowhere near the level of Zero’s). I lean against the wall, still in my cloth sleeping pants and my naked torso, and feel the cool metal of the cockpit’s interior against my back. Zero is still naked, but seems totally at ease with his naked ass in the pilot’s chair.

           “You can’t just attack Kip.”

           Zero doesn’t turn to me, nor does he show any signs of tensing.

“He shouldn’t have been sneaking around like that.”

“I don’t think he was trying to be devious, Zero. He was lost and alone. It was an accident. It happens, but you need to be more careful. Kip is delicate. You could hurt him treating him like that.”

“If I’d wanted to hurt him,” Zero growls, finally turning to me, “I would have.”

“That’s… true,” I admit, because I know that Zero could have killed Kip, possibly more easily than pinning him, “but you still need to be gentler with him. You scared him half to death. I don’t want him terrified all the time.”

“I didn’t realize it was him during my initial attack,” Zero admits. “I just thought it was an intruder. And once I had him pinned, I couldn’t see him as anything but an enemy and a security risk.”

“That’s okay,” I tell him as it dawns on me that Zero had been just as surprised and frightened as Kip had been. “Really, that’s okay.”

“It’s not!” he snarls, standing and bringing his fist down on the console hard enough to make the screen flicker. “He never should have gotten into the room! I should have heard him in the hall! I should have known the moment he left his room!”

           The silence after Zero’s angry words seems to echo. Zero’s clenched hands slowly relax, the anger draining out of him. I give him a moment to regain his composure, then I tell him, “I want you to feel safe here. I’m not upset that you’ve started to relax. I don’t want you to see Kiplan as threat. He isn’t one.”

“He could be,” Zero says, his voice flat. “Anyone could be. Threats are everywhere.”

I know about Zero’s past, so I know that this isn’t an unreasonable amount of paranoia. Still, there’s no real way to answer him without confirming or denying his fears. I don’t think it would be best to belittle his worries in this uncertain situation, but neither do I want to make it worse when he’s as safe as I can hope to make him.

“Come back to bed,” I order gently.

“Is he still there?”

“Yes,” I respond, and see his shoulders tense. “Zero,” I sigh, “I need you to trust my judgement on this. You know he’s not a threat,” I tell him softly, but I can tell that it’s not what he wants to hear. He hunches his shoulders and steps past me, headed back to the bedroom.

Softly, I hear him say, “Everyone’s a threat.” I let him leave without a response. 

Back in the bedroom, Kiplan has fallen asleep in the same position, with his face pressed against his knees. He startles when the door opens, blinking sleepily at me. He says nothing, though, and I’m too tired to sort through another set of problems tonight. I let the issues he and Zero have for each other remain for the night, and focus on getting everyone back to sleep.

           I climb into bed beside Kip, putting myself between him and Zero. At first, Kip seems nervous, but he’s also not brave enough to refuse the implied command. He lies down along my side, perched on the edge of the bed, putting more than polite distance between us. I put an arm around his waist and pull him closer, ignoring the quiet whimper, and then settle down. After a moment of hesitation, I feel Zero slide in behind me, his naked skin pressing against my side. Zero normally sleeps lying flat on his back, and I don’t even want to know what kind of military training keeps him totally still at night with his arms and legs straight at his sides. Tonight, though, I feel him curling toward me, one arm laying across my chest.

           I’d like – I’d really, really like – to think that he just wants to be near me for comfort. However, it seems far more likely, given the night’s events, that he’s still feeling threatened, and wants to be close to me in case of an attack. It’s possible that he still doesn’t trust Kip, and wants to be in a position to shove my other asset out of the bed if he so much as makes a move. Either way, I can’t push Zero away on the off chance that he has other motives for being close to me, but I also don’t want him to alienate the timid asset on my other side.

           I give a quiet sigh and slip one arm around Zero’s shoulders and one around Kip’s, pulling them both closer to me.

           Because I’m going to save them both, or die trying.


	9. Morning Mixups - Kip POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter on Wednesday was a bit short, so hopefully everyone likes this bonus chapter! It's pretty short too, but I think it's pretty cute. 
> 
> Once again, I couldn't do this without my support team. IntrepidEm, Marner, and Ygrainne are all awesome for helping me out with this and making sure what I think in my head actually ends up in words before it reaches you. 
> 
> Please leave me comments and kudos if you like this! Thanks for reading!

           When I wake the next morning, feeling better rested and clearer than I have in a while, Master Zeke and Zero are gone. I sit up quickly and survey the room, but the only signs of them are the wrinkled sheets beside me.

           How much of last night was real and how much was a drug-induced hallucination? I wonder, can I trust anything I remember from last night? I wrack my brain, but nothing stands out as certainly a dream. Everything here is… strange, but not impossible.

           My memories go to last night, and I put my hand on my throat. It’s sore, probably bruised an unattractive shade of purple from the feel of it. So Zero did attack me for trespassing in Master’s room, but Master Zeke wasn’t upset. He didn’t punish me and he let me sleep in the bed with them, so that has to be a sign of favor. But I’m no better off than I was last night when I came looking for Zero. I don’t really know what I should be doing or who I should ask. Certainly Master Zeke doesn’t handle the day-to-day operations in the ship.

           Except… I seem to remember eating a meal with Master and Zero. I’d been sick and drugged at the time, but it seemed like Master and Zero eating together was… normal. More than that, Zero hadn’t seemed to do any of the cooking, which means that either Zeke has another asset that I’m not aware of, or he does the cooking himself.

           Which, I suppose, isn’t inconceivable, but most Owners who cook do so as a gourmet hobby. This meal, from what I could see, had been rudimentary at best and spoke more of necessity than pleasure or skill. The bread had been prepackaged and presliced. The meat had been precooked and precut. The chips on the side were from a bag, not homemade. And it was seriously lacking in vegetables, condiments, and artistry. I’d like to suggest that I could be a great advantage in his kitchen, but I don’t want to seem presumptuous or imply that I’m ungrateful for the opportunity of being his pleasure slave. Perhaps he won’t mind if I stay as a pleasure asset but work in the kitchen when I’m not being used? I could ask Zero what he thinks, except…

           I sigh and flip off the covers. I doubt that I’ll get any help from Zero, especially after last night. I probably got him in trouble, and he had little patience for me before that. If I can’t rely on Zero for help, then I’ll just have to prove myself as a valuable asset on my own. Maybe then Zero won’t be so short-tempered with me. At least I haven’t made Master Zeke angry with me yet.

           This room is set up quite similar to mine, I realize as I stand and look around. It’s bigger than mine, but not as big as it should be for a master bedroom. I see a similar door to the one that conceals my bathroom, and I head toward it. I resolve to freshen up and then find out what my duties are.

           The bathroom is more like a master bath, though still not as large as the lavish bathing area that I’d expect on this kind of ship. Perhaps these are the captain’s quarters? Settled somewhere between lavish and efficient, it would make sense. There’s an area behind a small privacy divider with a toilet, along with a shower that could fit four and a large, elaborate bath. The sink area has a large counter top, but there’s nothing laid out except toothpaste. Certainly not the make-up and skin care products that I’d expect to see in the quarters of a pleasure slave.

           I realize, as I step inside, that there’s already someone in here. I take a hesitant step backwards, but I’m too surprised to move when I take in the scene before me. It’s Zero and he’s…

           Zero is naked. He’s reclined on a small divan on the opposite wall. He’s panting, and his eyes are glazed. His hand is wrapped around his cock and he’s stroking it slowly.

           Zero is…

           Is he _masturbating?_

           I stumble backwards and close the door quietly, leaning my forehead against it and wondering what to do. Should I just walk away? I don’t want him to know I caught him – it’s not like he needs any more reasons to dislike me. But he’s taking such a huge risk! What is he thinking? If Master finds out that his pleasure asset has been self-gratifying…

           “Good morning, Kip!” comes Master’s cheerful voice from behind me. I spin around, effectively blocking the door.

           “Uh! Good morning, Master Zeke!”

           “Did you sleep well?” he asks, smiling at me.

           I try to smile back and say, just a bit too loudly, “Oh yes! Thank you, sir!” Hopefully, Zero can hear me.

           “I’m glad. You look like you’re feeling better, too. Do you want to shower and get some breakfast? Then we can talk about what you’ll be doing here.”

           That sounds marvelous. Perfect, actually. It’s exactly what I was hoping for – more than I’d been hoping for, really, with breakfast as an added bonus. I don’t want to make Master Zeke think that I’m in any way ungrateful for all the time and effort that he’s put into me. But…

           Zero is in the bathroom, possibly still in a compromising position. And as much as I don’t want to irritate Master, I also don’t want Zero to get in trouble.

           “I… Um…” I stall, but I can’t think of a convincing lie. “I think Zero is using this bathroom. Perhaps we could shower after breakfast, Master?”

“No, it’s fine,” he says, like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. “Zero won’t mind sharing.”

           Then he’s reaching past me for the doorknob, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. I move aside, not daring to physically block the door any longer. The door opens, and Zero is still sitting on the bench, stroking his member at a languid pace. Master pushes past me into the room, and everything’s in slow motion. I want to call out to Zero, to warn him, but it’s already too late. Master is standing in front of Zero – who’s still stroking his damn cock! – and I move into the room, hoping there’s something I can do to pacify my new Master. Is there any way I can protect Zero without getting myself sold in the process? I hardly dare to breathe, waiting to see what Master will do.

           But Master Zeke… smiles and leans over Zero’s reclined form, stroking his fingers gently down Zero’s shaft. Zero’s jaw clenches, but otherwise his expression stays the same. When Master Zeke’s hand wraps around Zero’s cock and strokes it gently, Zero’s body tenses, although he makes no moves to protest. After a few moments, Zero says, “Master… please…” in a tone that’s too gravely to be a whine but too submissive to be a command. Master chuckles and pulls his hand back, then kisses Zero gently on the lips.

           “You’re doing a good job. Keep going,” Master commands, but it’s gentle, more like a direction than an order.

           Then Master turns around, and I realize that I’ve been staring, mouth agape, during this entire interaction. I hurry to close my mouth, but I’m not fast enough to cover my shocked and terrified expression.

           “What’s the matter, Kiplan?” Master asks.

           “I just…” I stutter, afraid that I’ll say something wrong and get Zero or myself in trouble. “I thought… Umm…”

           “He thought I was doing this without your permission,” Zero explains curtly, shooting me a glare that says, “Like I’d do something as stupid as that,” and “I don’t need your protection,” without actually saying anything.

           I feel terribly embarrassed. Of course Zero wouldn’t masturbate if Master Zeke had forbidden it. Someone as well-trained as Zero isn’t likely to breathe if he hasn’t been ordered to. I suddenly feel very stupid. I don’t know anything about this owner, and it was presumptuous of me to assume that I did. If I get disciplined, it will be my own fault.

           “That’s probably understandable,” Master Zeke says, and his voice is still free of censure. His attention is on Zero, but that’s good, right? If he was going to get mad, he’d have turned his attention to me, wouldn’t he? “I think you’re about as unique a case as they come.” Master Zeke looks toward me, but there’s no sign of anger on his face. “Zero has orders to masturbate every morning after his first workout and before breakfast, so you’ll probably see him doing this a lot. Zero has been on sexual suppressants, so his body needs to adjust and desensitize itself to sexual stimulation before we can progress with his training as a pleasure asset.”

           “Oh,” I say, because I’ve heard of that. There are stories about combat assets who are taken off of suppressants and suddenly any sexual stimulation is overwhelmingly, painfully powerful. I’ve heard that the effect wears off eventually, but I’ve never heard of an owner training it out of asset. Then again, I’ve never heard of one needing to. “I’m sorry. I was mistaken.”

I bow my head, but Master Zeke lays a hand on my shoulder and turns me toward the shower. Apparently, he’s not interested in my repentance, but neither is he angry with me. I cast a glance back at Zero as I’m guided away, but Zero has his eyes closed and is absorbed in seeking his orgasm. His face is as neutral as ever, and it’s a little… unsettling.

           Master starts the shower and ushers me inside. I want to offer him sexual gratification, but given my recent mistake I’m hesitant to make any kind of assumption about my role. Perhaps Zero is the only one that Master wants sexual gratification from? But then why would he buy a second pleasure asset?

           Master doesn’t initiate any sexual contact, and I can’t bring myself to offer. The shower goes like it would with another asset. Master Zeke even washes my back for me, his hands lingering at my hips but never dipping lower. I can see evidence that Master finds me attractive – his manhood is only slightly erect, but already showing considerable, almost frightening size – but he doesn’t make any movements to relieve his arousal. After a few minutes Zero joins us, his cock already softening and the evidence of his completion smeared across his thighs. Master Zeke treats him with the same gentle, lingering touches.

           Is it paranoid for me to suspect that this can’t be all there is? To believe that a master who seems this kind and gentle must be hiding a monster of nightmarish proportions? Am I just waiting for something terrible to happen, to make up for all the kindness that I’ve been shown? After struggling for so long, how can it be this easy after I gave up hope of ever being happy again?

           Zero’s body is covered in scars, and that terrifies me. I know, logically, that zeros can take a lot of damage. I know Zero – this Zero – has seen combat. And I’m sure that a lot of the scars are from before Master Zeke bought him. But there are some, scattered randomly across his form, that look suspiciously new. Why would Master Zeke buy such a durable clone for a pleasure asset, unless he planned to abuse him? And what plans could he have for me, since he put me in the same category as Zero? After all, Zero is a valuable asset, a first generation clone, and a legendary fighter. I’m a defective asset, a late generation clone, and a failed domestic. There’s no comparison. And if I have no value, what’s to keep Master Zeke from using me and tossing me away?

           I pull my mind away from those thoughts. I need to stay positive. I’ll watch Zero and see how Master Zeke treats him, and maybe find a way to help. In the meantime, I’ll try to see if Master Zeke can make use of my domestic skills, so that I can show him some of my value. I can’t give up!

           Master leaves the shower and dresses while I’m preoccupied with my thoughts. I get out a moment later, followed immediately by Zero. I’ve been given nothing else, and Zero is donning a pair of too-large sleeping pants, so I put back on the button down that I’ve been wearing. Perhaps Master Zeke will let me wash some laundry? My clothes from The Oasis must be somewhere.

           Zero steadfastly ignores me over breakfast, focusing all his attention on his food. The meal is, once again, rudimentary. Fried eggs and frozen pancakes, with reconstituted orange juice. It solidifies my notion that Master Zeke doesn’t have an asset dedicated to his meals. I get the feeling that Zero handles his security, and everything else just falls where it falls. I’d like to offer my skills as a domestic, but I don’t know how to bring it up.

           “I’m out of cloth pants to wear,” Zero says toward the end of the meal. “I’ll have to resume training without clothing. I can’t guarantee that I won’t damage my skin.”

           “We’ll stop to buy clothes as soon as possible,” Master Zeke promises. “Change our course to head to the nearest decent retail section. We’ll restock and refuel, and I’ll get you and Kiplan a wardrobe.”

           “I could help!” I jump in, perhaps too excitedly. With more restraint, I say, “I mean, I did personal shopping for my last owner. Maybe I could help?”

           “Sure,” Master says easily. “That would be lovely. We’ll need to get your old clothes cleaned, too, so that you have something to wear out.”

           “I could do that too,” I offer. “I did a lot of domestic tasks with my last owner. I can do laundry if someone shows me where it is.”

           “Of course,” Master says, and he seems genuinely pleased. “Zero can show you where that is after breakfast, but don’t overdo it. You’re still recovering.”

           “Yes, Master,” I agree, and try to suppress a smile. “I could also help with other domestic tasks? I’ve had a lot of experience with housekeeping.”

           “Mm, we’ll talk about that later,” Zeke says noncommittally. “I’d be willing to let you take over some duties, but I don’t want you exhausting yourself. Plus, you’ll still have your duties as a pleasure asset. Perhaps we can work something out so that you and Zero can share the chores. Anyway, we’ll worry about that tomorrow. Zero?” Master says, rising and putting his dishes in the sink. “Could you show Kip where the laundry room is?”

           Zero nods and we both rise, putting our dishes in the sink. Zero says nothing, but I follow him anyway. Despite Zero’s continued silence, I’m feeling amazingly optimistic. Master Zeke has agreed to at least consider letting me use my domestic skills, and if I can show him how valuable I am as a domestic maybe he won’t be upset when he finds out how inexperienced I am as a pleasure asset. I’m not untried in sex, of course, but I don’t have the skills of a normal pleasure asset. Most of my practice came from my training at the Oasis. I have far more extensive training as a domestic asset. Now that I’m feeling better, hopefully I can showcase those skills.

           I trail behind Zero, a pleased smile on my face. “I’m glad we’re working together,” I tell him, hoping to get Zero to talk to me.

           He doesn’t look at me, but he does say, “We’re not working together.”

           “No, you’re right,” I agree quickly, since Master Zeke never implied that Zero would help me with this, and I don’t want to overstep by expecting assistance. “I mean, we’ll probably work together later though. With, like, pleasure asset stuff? I just, I hope I can be helpful to you when we start working together for Master Zeke.”

           We reach a door and Zero gestures toward it before turning and walking away. I feel a little deflated that he still doesn’t look at me, or talk to me, or even offer to show me where all the laundry and machines are.

           But it’s nothing compared to when he calls back over his shoulder, “I don't work with weaklings like you.”

           And leaves without even looking back at me.


	10. Preparing to Depart - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it really Thursday already? Must be the diet, that's making my week just flow into a slow haze of hunger and exercise. 
> 
> Update on my life, for which you may or may not be interested: I'm starting yet another new job Monday, so hopefully this one works out a little better than the last one. (I was etching glass, and I'm pretty sure I dropped about half the inventory. I suck.) So ideally I'll be able to get back into the writing swing, because this new schedule has really been messing with my ability to sit down and write. Anyway, on with the fic!
> 
> I couldn't do this without my support team. IntrepidEm, Marner, and Ygrainne are all awesome for helping me out with this!
> 
> Please don't forget to leave comments or kudos if you like/didn't like/are indifferent to my fic. Just let me know you're out there. I appreciate it!

           Kiplan is… insidious.

           Just over a week from coming out of a near-coma, and he’s already made himself indispensable. I wake to an empty bed once again, the covers wrinkled on either side of me as testament to the two bodies who’ve vacated without waking me. I already know where Zero is – I can almost imagine the sound of weights clanging down the hall, although noise doesn’t carry outside of the gym. What does carry amazingly well through the ship’s ventilation system, however, is the smell of fresh-brewed coffee from the kitchen down the hall.

           I roll myself out of bed and head to the bathroom, where I find that Kip has already laid out my toothbrush, put toothpaste on it for me, and filled a glass of water. I quirk an eyebrow, but I suppose it’s better than yesterday, when he volunteered to brush my teeth for me. Or earlier this week, I found him on his knees by my bedside, waiting for me to wake up and give him orders. So, we’re making progress.

           There’s a set of clothes laid out for me on the divan by the shower. I would roll my eyes at that, but it’s a tasteful outfit. The top is a long-sleeved gray button-down with the sleeves already rolled to the elbow and stylishly pressed, and it’s complemented by a pair of fitted black pants and matching gray shoes. A little more formal than I would wear around the ship, but we’ve got a shopping trip planned for today, so it’s appropriate. I can tell that they’ve been freshly washed and pressed from the scent of them, and somehow the fabric feels softer than the clothes that have been vacuum sealed in my drawers or closet. With a shrug of surrender to Kip’s skills, I grab a quick shower and dress in the clothes he selected.

           By the time I pad into the kitchenette, there’s already a latte steaming in a mug at my seat. The latte is covered in a thick layer of foamed cream and with a singular decorative leaf floating in the swirl at the center. Kip is bent over the stove in his gray clothes from the Oasis, with a white apron protecting them from splatters. Yes, it’s definitely time to get him something else to wear.

           I settle at the table and take a sip of my coffee. Apparently, the leaf is from a mint plant, and less decorative than I initially thought. I sip slowly and savor the slight, sweet taste of the mint mingling with a rich hint of chocolate and the bitter taste of the coffee.

           “Do you like it?” Kip asks shyly. He’s pulling something out of the over as he speaks – it seems like he’s always doing something with his hands. He sets a pan from the oven on the stovetop and starts ladling something over it. The scent of chocolate fills the kitchen. “I wasn’t sure if you would, but I found fresh mint in the garden and I couldn’t help making a mint reduction. I was thinking of maybe buying some lamb while we’re out? I know a mint and rosemary lamb chops recipe that’s very popular, and I thought you might like it. Only I wasn’t sure if we could get lamb, or if you even like lamb. Of course, it doesn’t have to be a main course. I do a lovely grasshopper pie.”

           Kip has a habit of talking non-stop when he’s nervous, which is pretty much any time I’m looking in his direction. I can tell it’s a nervous habit that he’s had for a long time, though, because he automatically lowers his volume as he speaks until he’s speaking in a low, soothing tone. I could easily let his voice fade into the background noise of the kitchen and it would blend perfectly.

           “It’s good,” I say instead, catching his attention. He smiles at me, the first time he’s actually looked at me today. There are bags under his eyes still, but they’re not as pronounced as they were a few days ago, and his face has lost its pale, hollowed look. Hopefully, as Kip settles, he’ll put on some weight and start sleeping better.

           “I’m glad you like it,” he says, and does a bow with his hands clasped in front of him. Thankfully, he doesn’t go to a full kneel like he has a few other times. Kip is a bit more adaptable than Zero. He’s been picking up on my social cues fairly quickly and has dropped most of his formal, subservient attitude. He still goes a little overboard, though.

           Kip puts down a cup of black coffee in front of Zero’s seat and then serves me a warm chocolate scone topped with a thick, dark chocolate glaze. I made the mistake of mentioning that I tend to like sweet things in the morning, and yesterday’s pancakes have only been outshined by today’s scones, warms and crisp and fresh from the oven. Kip’s cooking skills are amazing. I can’t imagine anyone getting rid of him, migraines or not.

           Kip sets a plate a scrambled eggs and dry toast down next to Zero’s coffee before finally serving himself a scone and a mug of hot tea. Zero, in contrast, has specifically mentioned that he doesn’t like overly sweet foods. Kip has somehow managed to deduce that Zero prefers black coffee, lean protein, and whole wheat toast all without ever having Zero actually talk to him. I’ve noticed the way Kip has gone out of his way to try to befriend Zero, and I’m trying not to interfere. Zero isn’t the easiest person to get along with. I doubt my meddling will make him any more approachable.

           Zero enters a moment later, still a bit damp from his shower and wearing the outfit that I got him at the Oasis. He’s been wearing it recently when he’s not training, perhaps more for my benefit than because he has any issue with being naked.  I have no doubt that Kip laundered Zero’s clothes, since the last time I saw that outfit it was at the bottom of the laundry basket. Zero nods to me in greeting, then takes a sip of his coffee and starts in on his eggs without ever glancing at Kip. I frown, because being unapproachable is one thing, but his behavior is starting to border on rude. Still, I hold my tongue. I don’t want to push them together too soon and deal with an inevitable backlash.

           “When will we be nearing Satellite 39?” I ask casually, savoring my breakfast while Zero eats as well.

           “We’ll be close enough to take the jump ship in three hours.”

           I nod. “Good. I expect you to tether the cruiser to Satellite 39’s orbit and clean up the dishes before we head in,” I tell him, because Kip has been taking on the bulk of the household cleaning and I don’t want Zero dropping everything on him. Zero nods, but doesn’t look up from his plate. “What are you planning to do, Kip?”

           “Did you have something for me to do, Master?” he asks quickly, but I shake my head. “I was thinking I could work in the garden again…” he trails, but he can tell by my frown that I don’t like that idea either. Kip found out that this ship is equipped with a hydroponic vegetable garden recently and has spent several days working with the plants. He’s still got a bit of redness across his nose from where the harsh artificial sunlight was too much for his pale skin.

           “I think you should take a break from that,” I warn him gently, trying to avoid sounding even vaguely like a rebuke. “Besides, I don’t want you overworking yourself.”

           He smiles prettily and says, “I’m alright, Master.”

           I’m not buying it. Every time I take my eyes off of him, he seems determined to work. And, as much as I admire his resolve, I’m a bit more interested in having him recover than making sure there’s toothpaste on my brush in the morning.

           “Why don’t you come and sit with me? I’ve got some work to look over. You could read and keep me company.”

           If there’s anything that will entice Kiplan to sit still, it seems to be books. Books, and of course anything that resembles an order from me.

           “Of course, Master,” he says, quickly, and his smile looks a bit more genuine this time. I let our conversation trail to an end and Kip starts eating again.

           Zero has already finished his breakfast, and stands without saying anything. He puts his dishes in the sink and leaves without a word. I frown and then shrug it off. If he wants to be moody, that’s his prerogative.

           “Oh,” Kip says with a frown as he looks toward the door Zero just left through. “I wanted to ask Zero if it would be okay if I used his makeup today. Do you think he’ll mind?”

           I’m confused enough to hesitate in my response, finally settling on, “What makeup?”

           “The… I found some concealer and powders in the bathroom under the sink. I just thought – since we’re going out and I’m still… I still don’t look my best…”

           “Oh,” I respond. “Those are mine, but go ahead and use them.” I hadn’t really thought about getting Zero makeup, not that I think he’d have any idea how to use it. It’s probably normal for pleasure assets to use makeup to make themselves look more alluring, but I hadn’t really considered it in Zero’s case. It might be less common for Owners to use makeup, but I doubt it’s rare. A good concealer can make a big difference without being obvious, and I’m actually something of a practiced makeup artist. I shrug at Kip and smile, finishing my statement with, “It’s not like we always wake up looking perfect. Go ahead and use my cosmetics, and remember to buy yourself some while we’re out. I’ll give you a card. Then maybe at some point you can teach Zero to use them.”

           He smiles back and bends his head demurely, then says, “Of course, Master,” before turning back to his food.

           Kiplan and I spend a couple hours after breakfast pleasantly, if not productively. Kip falls asleep almost immediately, with his tablet cradled on his chest. It’s pretty much what I was expecting, considering how exhausted he looked. 

           I’m supposed to be looking over background files to try and find a connection between Reynard and the Leash that we might be able to prove. I skim the files and pretend to be absorbed but, honestly, I’m too distracted. It’s taken a week for us to get to Satellite 39, when it’s actually only a few hours away from Red Seven. I could blame it on work with the Department and getting Kiplan settled, but that’s not the truth of it. If I’m honest about it, I’ve put it off this time for the same reason I decided to get Zero’s clothes delivered last time.

           I’m hesitant about taking Zero and Kip out in public.

           So far, I’ve only had them interact with other Owners in Leash-controlled areas. But will I really be able to pull off this charade in public? What if one of them has a melt-down? What if Kiplan gets a migraine? Or Zero attacks someone? I feel like all eyes will be watching us, and I’m afraid I’ll lose control of the situation.

           It’s not really something I can avoid, though. Clothing is becoming a necessity for both men in my care, and I don’t want to purchase clothing online again and end up with the wrong style of clothes for them. Kip has already assured me that he has experience in public situations, and I know Zero will follow my instructions as closely as possible. I’ve also chosen more exclusive shopping destination, so we’re unlikely to be dealing with large crowds or long lines. Everything else will stay floating, I suppose.

           After two hours of mostly-fruitless skimming, I put my tablet aside in frustration and softly pad out of the room, careful not to wake Kiplan. I head to the bedroom with some vague idea of grabbing a tie or a jacket, just in time to hear the water turn off. I walk into the bathroom just as Zero is slipping out of his second shower of the day. Naked and still damp, I can’t help but step in close and lay a hand on Zero’s shoulder. The glistening water on his skin highlights the old scars that crisscross his body. My eyes are drawn to the newer bruises that lay across his back. I put those there last night, in another exercise meant to help me test his limits. I’ve also been trying to teach him that he has them.

           “You’ve been awfully grumpy lately,” I tease him, trying draw him out of the mood he’s been in. Zero only shrugs in response, and I move in front of him and tilt his chin to get him to look at me. “Hey. Is everything alright?”

           “I’m fine,” he responds flatly. I resist the urge to sigh.

           “Is it Kip?”

           “No.”

“There’s no reason for you to be jealous.”

“I’m aware.”

“And he’s trying to get you to like him.”

           “How I feel about him is irrelevant.”

           “You could give him a chance, Zero. Especially if it’s bothering you this much.”

           “It isn’t Kip,” he growls, and pulls away from me. Puts his back to me.

           My fingers move of their own volition to the welts that I’ve left on his skin, barely daring to ghost across the marks. They’ll probably be faded by tonight, with how quickly Zero heals. I struck him with a leather strap this time, watching the flexible strap kiss his skin, listening to the sharp intake of breath that was Zero’s only sign of pain. I’ve started leaving him unrestrained through certain exercises, confident that Zero will not move to dodge the blow.

           I could say that I need to keep my skills sharp or that Zero must be acclimated to taking pain from me, and it would be partially true. But honestly, I like giving this pain to Zero. I like feeling the power in my hands, I like seeing Zero submit to me. I like seeing the way endorphins flood his system, the way his eyes go hazy as the pain fades and leaves his body tingling and buzzing. Is it wishful thinking, that perhaps he’s starting to like it too? I haven’t dared to cross the line into sexual pain. I don’t touch his cock when I hit him, I don’t bring him any kind of pain when I’m giving him an orgasm. I worry about his response to mixing these two aspects, and yet I’m curious to see his reaction. 

           My fingers trail over his damaged skin and I know I’m causing him some discomfort, but Zero doesn’t flinch away from me. He allows me to run my hands over his back and down his thighs, to press my fingers to the wounded flesh. At no point does he protest. I find my left hand moving to cup the back of his head, to twine his short hair in my fingers and pull until his head is bent back and his throat exposed, while the other hand presses into one of the deeper bruises along his spine. Is it my imagination that he sags into my grip? That he likes giving his control over to me?

           “I’m trying to be patient with you,” I whisper against the skin of his throat, and it sounds more like a threat than I mean it to, so I follow with, “but you’re shutting me out.” I place a gentle kiss against the base of his throat, feel his pulse beating steadily against my lips. The moment is charged with an almost sexual tension, and yet I’m not sexually aroused. The power is intoxicating, with the feel of Zero’s muscular body bent under my hands. I have the overwhelming urge to bite the tender flesh of his exposed throat, to leave the mark of my teeth on him as I left the mark of my strap last night.

           Kiplan enters then, still with blurry eyes and mussed-up hair. If anything tells me what a compromising position we’re in, it’s Kip’s horrified expression. My knee-jerk reaction is to release Zero, but I stop myself. I can’t let Kip think I’m ashamed or uncertain of my own actions. Instead, I capture Zero’s lips in a deep kiss, letting Kip’s presence fade into the background of my mind. But the moment has been broken already, and when the kiss ends I release Zero, who pulls away like nothing happened and goes to get dressed. Kip backs out of the room quickly, murmuring apologies.

           There’s a half an hour left, so I follow Zero to the jump-ship and help him with the preflight checklist. It’s not something I generally worry about, but Zero’s paranoia makes it impossible to skip. After enduring several minutes of Zero’s irritable demeanor, I’m thinking that this trip is an absolutely brilliant idea. Any more time cooped up with Zero and his attitude, and I’m likely to throttle him.

           When we’re fully prepared, I volunteer to get Kip instead calling him through the ship’s intercom. I really need a minute away from Zero. I remind myself again that this is new to him and he’s adjusting as best he can.

           But this “being new” is getting old.

           I find Kip coming out of the kitchen, already dressed and ready to go.  The bags under his eyes are less visible and his skin looks a bit less sallow. I can tell that he’s put on a thin layer of foundation. I make a note that I’ll have to show him how to contour to make it look more natural, and that we’ll have to get him some shades closer to his skin-tone than what I use. Still, it’s not bad and certainly good enough for this outing.

           “Did Zero get the dishes like I asked?” I wonder with a frown. I’m going to be very unhappy if he didn’t.  

           “Yes,” he replies quickly, giving me an easy smile. “He must have done them as soon as we left after breakfast.”

           And that gives me a sigh of relief. At least I won’t have to fight with Zero, on top of all the other stresses of today.

           “Are you ready?” I ask him, but I already know he is. Everything Kip and Zero will need for this – money, fake ids, falsified travel documents – are already in the ship. It’s a bit excessive, since I’m not expecting to attract any attention on this trip. However, as this area is not (to my knowledge) controlled by The Leash, I need to make sure I have a backup in case one of my assets missteps and attracts the wrong kind of attention. Their documents will testify to the backstory I’ve given them - that Zero is my new pilot and Kip is my personal chef. My documents have all been sent ahead and verified, as I am the licensed owner of this ship. It’s one of the few times I’ve produced documentation with my real name on it.

           As we board the jump-ship and prepare to disembark from my cruiser, I can only hope that I’m fully prepared. Like everything else since I joined The Leash, I feel ill-prepared for what’s to come. Luckily, I know I can trust the two men who are with me.  


	11. Shopping on Satellite 39 - Zeke POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have just enough time to post this and NOT be late for work at my new job, which I'm loving. Adjusting to ANOTHER new sleeping schedule is not as fun, but at least this one is normal. I've got some Zero/Zeke stuff planned for next chapter, so keep an eye out. I'll see when I can get it posted. Thanks for reading! Please let me know if you like it!
> 
> All the thanks to IntrepidEm, Marner, and Ygrainne for all their help!

Satellite 39 is part middle-class residential district, part upper-class shopping. It’s the kind of place where the people who live there can’t afford to shop in the same stores where they work. Still, it’s a fairly prosperous place for a middle-class, working family. Crime is very low, in part because of a large police force that keeps the streets and shops safe for the elite. I haven’t had a lot of reasons to stop here, although I’ve made a few trips to this area in my own persona. Appearing in public on occasion has helped to keep people from wondering too much about my lengthy disappearances.

Kiplan tells me he’s been here several times while working for his last owner. Apparently, Satellite 39 has a fairly extensive array of gourmet spices and exclusive herbs. Kip was the one to call ahead and make an appointment with a boutique so that he and Zero won’t have to shop from the racks in the browsing section. Kip also orders a shipment of general supplies to be delivered to the jump-ship while we shop. It seems that my pantry’s stores are insufficient for a chef of his talents.   

Satellite 39 has a circular shape and a glossy white exterior. The white coating is actually a shield that they use to protect the privacy of their consumers. The white center has three metallic loops that crisscross the outer shell. These rings function as ornamental parking. Because of the low gravity outside of the Satellite, the rings are able to shift around the circular center. In essence, the rings move to bring your ship to the closest entrance to your destination, and bring your ship to the nearest exit when you want to leave. This kind of place serves a clientele that’s far too rich to walk to their transportation, and entirely too posh to wait for a valet. 

I was raised in this kind of luxury, but I’ve spent years playing different people from different incomes. I’ve been the spoiled-rich-kid a few times, but I’ve also played the penniless-prostitute and the homeless-addict. What seemed normal to me then seems superfluous to me now. But then, I suppose I’m going to have to desensitize myself to it. I can’t imagine it’s going to get any better as I get deeper into The Leash society.

Zero pulls close to Satellite 39 and pings to be allowed entry. A hatch opens, and Zero maneuvers the ship inside. We get a private docking bay, which is a large but unremarkable room to park the ship in. Zero locks us down and opens the exit with a loud hiss of hydraulics. The cargo hatch will need to be left open so that Kip’s order of food and general necessities can be delivered, along with fuel for the jump-ship. Even though there’s no way to access the cabin from the cargo area, I’m still surprised Zero doesn’t give me trouble about allowing someone access to the jump-ship while we’re gone. He’ll probably want to do a full inspection before we depart to make up for it. 

          There are a few steps from the ship’s door to the floor of the docking bay, and Kip and I wait there until Zero finishes with his shutdown procedures. When Zero finally appears, he’s dressed casually in the white button-down and black slacks that he’s been wearing since the Oasis. He takes the steps down two at a time.

When he hits the bottom step, he jerks sharply to his left side, stumbles, and goes to his knees on the metal floor. I’m so surprised that Zero is back on his feet before I manage to comment.

“What just happened?” I ask. Zero is looking so unruffled that I have to glance at Kiplan to confirm that I really saw him fall. Kip, thankfully, looks as stunned as I feel.

“Nothing,” Zero replies.

“No,” I respond slowly, “I’m pretty sure I just saw you fall for no reason. Which is very weird, especially for you. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says firmly, and I can tell that he’d rather close the subject immediately and firmly, but it’s not something I can do.

“If you hurt yourself training, I need to know,” I tell him firmly.

He grits his teeth and shoots me a glare, but says in an even tone, “The pressure differential between the ship and the satellite took me by surprise.”

Air pressure can vary slightly between ships and satellites. In general, it’s not something that can be noticed unless it’s being scientifically measured.

“I’m not sure I understand,” I reply. This time, he actually does sigh.

“I’ve been training intensely. It’s aggravated some of my old wounds. The change in air pressure made it… ache. It surprised me. That is all.”

I hadn’t considered how his training might affect his body. I think back to the cracked-glass scars on his hip, evidence of a direct hit from a pulse-gun. The bones underneath would have been shattered, and it’s a wonder he even survived. I’d like to have his body examined by an actual medical professional, but I doubt I’ll be able to make that happen any time soon. For now, Zero is at least functional. I’ll have to trust him not to push his limits to the point of damaging himself.  

“Did you want to take something for the pain?” I ask him. He shoots me a glare, like I’ve said something offensive.

“No, sir,” he growls. “I am  _ fine _ .” He pointedly won’t look at me, like this subject is already closed.

          Okay, then. Sore subject. I get it. Moving on.

          I clear my throat awkwardly and say, “Kip, do you want to lead us to the store?”

Kip leads us out of the docking bay and into a wide, open area filled with storefronts. It’s only a short walk to the classy, stylishly simple storefront that we’re looking for. I keep an eye on Zero and Kip as we pass through several groups of people, but neither of them seem nervous or upset by this new environment. Zero keeps his attention on our destination, occasionally flicking his eyes at any individual that gets too close. Kip, on the other hand, scans each of the shops with wide-eyed excitement. Neither of them seems at all out of place, even despite Kip’s odd gray outfit from the Oasis and Zero’s ill-fitting clothes from the same trip. My worry about them blending in seems to be completely unfounded.

          At our destination, we find a young lady dressed in a fashionable business suit, who smiles as we enter. I’m surprised when Kip moves to take the lead, stepping in front of her desk and smiling in response.

“Are you the Price group?” she asks.

“Yes, mam,” Kip says easily. If I’d been worried that he wouldn’t know how to act in public, I feel foolish now. “I called ahead that we were coming?”

“Oh yes, about the private room. Right this way.”

She ushers us into a smaller room that looks more like a gallery than a typical store. There’s a large monitor in front of the room with a long door underneath it. It’s surrounded by several plush couches. In the center of the room is a low, glass table. Off to the side is a small, curtained area for changing. The only thing out of place is a small, circular platform just off of the doorway. Otherwise, the room is done in muted beige colors, with mauve carpets and pictures of fashion sketches lining the walls.

“Have you been to one of our stores before?” the associate asks.

“Yes, thank you. I think we can handle it from here,” Kiplan replies. The associate smiles again and steps out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. I wonder, is my presence even necessary? Obviously Kip has done this before, and Zero isn’t showing any signs of nervousness either. It seems like my fretting was simply over-protective paranoia. 

I suppose it makes sense, when I think about it. If Zero were to function as a bodyguard for his previous owner, then he would have needed to be able to blend in outside of The Leash as well. And Kiplan obviously needed to interact with outside vendors in his duties as a domestic asset. I have to wonder, did this all simply become normal to them? Do they have no hopes of ever being rescued? Because certainly they’ve had chances in situations like these to attract attention, and they’ve never taken it before. Or perhaps they did, and The Leash proved that there was no hope for escape. 

I try to shake off those thoughts. It certainly won’t be good if Zero and Kip are acting normal and I’m the one attracting attention by being so distracted and dour. 

Alone with my assets in the room, I take a glance around me. Boutiques like this are fashionable right now. They combine the convenience of a digital inventory with the adventure of actually going to a store. The circular platform by the door is a non-invasive body scanner. All Kip and Zero need to do is step on the platform for 30 seconds, and the store gets exact measurements and a digital copy of their bodies. That information is then sent to the main screen, which displays a slightly distorted version of their three dimensional form. The table in front of it functions as a computer screen, allowing the customer to try their inventory on the digital copy before requesting a physical version. The actual clothes are delivered, vacuum-packed and size-specific, by the compartment underneath the screen, which is linked to the store’s delivery center. It can then be tried on, to make sure the fit and feel are right.

          Zero’s image comes up on the store’s monitor first, but he makes no move to dress it, pointedly not looking at the screen and giving off an air of put-upon indifference. Kip eventually leans over and taps the table-screen until clothes begin appearing on Zero’s semi-nude image. Thankfully Kip takes over, because I’d been planning on trying to wait Zero out and see if his attitude or my patience cracked first.

          Kip scrolls through several outfits, putting a few in the basket when I nod in approval. When Kip finds the work-out clothes, Zero calls him to a halt. 

“Those are fine,” Zero says, and I roll my eyes.

“The point of this trip is to get you a few sets of decent clothes, Zero.”

He shrugs.

“Then order multiple sets of that.”

I let out a huff because I don’t want to growl at him. “I don’t even know what to do with you. Kip? Put a couple versions of that in the basket, and that should be enough for now.”

The order goes in, and in a moment the prepackaged, vacuum sealed clothes appear from a slot near the screen. Kip hands them to Zero, who stares at him before taking the clothes. And then doing nothing.

“Try them on,” I tell him.

“Why? They’re in my size.”

“Because size is not the only thing that matters, Zero. Try them on and see if you like how they feel.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Put,” I say sharply, “the damn things on and make sure they fit right. A digital projection is hardly an accurate idea of what they’ll actually look like on you, and we could have done all this at home. Now try your clothes on before I get annoyed.”

Zero frowns, but rises and goes behind the curtain (he must know I’m annoyed, if he doesn’t even attempt to strip out here) to change.

I sit back with a sigh and glance at Kip, who’s trying to hide a smile behind his hand. I feel a good bit of my annoyance evaporate.

“Don’t start thinking it’s cute when he does this or I’ll never get it stopped,” I warn him, but I’m smiling now too.

“Of course, sir,” Kip responds, but he’s still smiling in amusement.

“What were you thinking for your outfits?” I ask him. His expression goes more serious and he pulls up the cartoonish image of his own body.

           “Mm,” he hums, “I definitely need some working clothes,” he says, pulling up some clothes in a cotton fabric, simple and vaguely resembling scrubs with a button-down top. “Probably some more casual clothes,” and he pulls up some jeans and some cotton pants, along with some t-shirts and sweaters. Kiplan seems to prefer more formal-looking clothes, compared to Zero’s fully functional outfits. “I suppose I’ll need formal wear,” he says, and pulls up some suits at varying levels of formality, “and I should probably get some lingerie,” he tells me with a blush, pulling up a section of skimpy clothing and underwear.

          I lean over the screen and flick some of the images around, picking out a few pieces of tight-fitting underwear. Anything more sexual than that – bondage harnesses, corsets, costumes – I already have in stock back on the ship. If I need to get something more specific, I’d prefer to get it from a retailer who specializes sexual items. I’m a bit particular when it comes to the quality of my gear.

I stretch and give a sigh as Kip starts browsing another section of clothes for himself. This is going to take forever. I don’t, in general, have to sit through this kind of tedium, and I find that I have no patience for it. Most of my clothes are tailor-made or custom-purchased by the Department. I rarely have to sit through something as dull as shopping, since I’m undercover most of the time. 

With another sigh, I decide that Kip seems to have it well in hand. I stretch and stand as Kip blinks at me in surprise.

“I’m going to trust you to handle this,” I tell him, confident that he won’t embarrass me while I’m away. “Do you have the comm-link I gave you on the ship?” I ask him. He nods, so I continue. “Call me if you have any problems, but I think you’ll do fine. Make sure Zero’s clothes fit well, and get both of you whatever you’ll need, plus shoes and socks and whatever. Make sure Zero gets appropriate clothes that fit well. And Zero?” I call to figure still behind the curtain. “Don’t give him any problems. Seriously. I will be displeased, and you will regret it.” I turn back to Kip. “I’ll leave my info with the front desk, so spend whatever you need. Call me when you’re finished and I’ll come find you.”

Kip gives me a mumbled, “Yes, sir,” as I turn to leave, and Zero doesn’t bother with a response. At the front desk, I stop to make sure that they have my credit information on file, and then order a couple new pairs of sleeping pants before I leave. 

Out in the lobby, I manage halfway down the hall, when my comm-link pings. I pull it out of my pocket with a sigh, wondering what Zero’s done already, but it’s a message from Mari.

It says, “Six stores down, on your right, back corner booth.”

Lovely.

I follow the directions, not even bothering to wonder how she knows where I am at this exact moment. I told her I was coming here today, of course, and she probably hacked into the security feeds to keep an eye on me.

At a booth in the back corner at a fancy little bistro is Mari, wearing a long skirt and a blouse with a ruffled neckline. Her hair is loose and falls in waves down to her shoulders, and her make-up softens her face. It’s strange for me to see her like this. I’m much more used to the military-style uniform she wore at the Department, sans make-up and with her hair pulled up in a tight bun.

I slide in across from her, noting that the booths directly beside us and behind us are empty. She’s probably already talked to the management and asked for some privacy. It’s probably not an uncommon request, considering the clientele that frequents this area.

“Hello there,” she says, sipping her drink. I know her well enough to guess that it’s probably an expensive, gourmet tea. The kind she only treats herself to once in awhile. I can also guess that the cup in front of my spot is a latte in whatever specialty flavor is being served this week.

“Let me guess, pineapple and dragonfruit with white tea?”

She smiles, and nudges my cup toward me.

“White chocolate cheesecake latte for you,” she says with a smile. “I can afford to indulge when it’s on your tab.”

I sit down and take a sip.

“Were you always planning on stalking me, or was this just an impulse?”

“Oh, a little of both,” she responds with a dismissive wave. “I’d been hoping to meet up with you face-to-face. When this opportunity presented itself, I just couldn’t let it pass by.”

“And why was it so important to see me?” I question. I take another sip of my drink, but it’s over-sweet and a bit bland. It’s the kind of drink that can be made in under a minute and served to a large range of customers. Perhaps I’m spoiled on Kip’s personalized, designer coffees.

“I just wanted to check on you,” she says quietly. There’s enough noise in this café to cover her voice. I don’t doubt that she’s had a team do a sweep for bugs earlier, but that’s probably a safety precaution. With this much surrounding noise, picking up our voices would be difficult.

“And you don’t think this is an unnecessary security risk?”

“What are you talking about?” she says with a grin and a shrug. “I’m just your secretary. There’s nothing strange about meeting up with me.”

“I see. So what official business do we need to discuss?”

She takes a sip of her tea, in no hurry to respond.

“How’s your new boy?” she asks. “I assume you brought him with you?”

“Yes, he’s with Zero now, purchasing clothes. He seems to be recovering nicely.” I don’t mention that he’s still pale and exhausted, or that he doesn’t seem to be putting on weight. His recovery is none of her concern.

“I’ll admit that I was a bit hesitant when you mentioned bringing them here. I didn’t think they’d be able to function in public, but I watched your arrival through the security feed. Kiplan’s interaction with the sales associate was impeccable. It seems like they’re far more skilled in acting normal than I had imagined.”

“I would think that after so much time, this is probably just normal for them,” I tell her, not mentioning my own reservations over it. I can’t help but bristle at the fact that she decided to monitor the situation without telling me, but I keep my temper under wraps. “Kip’s been at this nearly a decade, and Zero’s been in the program for six years. This is really all they’ve ever known as adults. It creates some chilling possibilities for how prevalent this might be.”

“The idea of using the chips to create an enslaved workforce is horrifying. Clones have been considered free citizens for decades now. The idea of using this technology to set them back - to impose even more restrictions on them than before - is sickening. I thought we were past this! How prevalent do you think this is?” she asks. 

          I take another sip of my coffee and find myself settling in for a longer discussion. I find that it’s nice to see Mari, even if her presence is unexpected. She’s been nothing more than a flat image that spews advice for so long that I’d almost forgotten that she’s a real person. It’s nice to be reminded that I have a team of actual people backing me up from a distance, and an entire militarized unit behind them.

Then again, that was probably Mari’s intention when she showed up here today.

“There’s no way to know for sure, but Kiplan’s comments have made me believe that his last owner was considered innovative. That said, it only means that they haven’t started doing this  _ yet _ . Not just that, but this technology isn’t restricted to the clones. Any person could be fitted with a chip, particularly at-risk, low-income demographics. We need to head this off before we have entire populations being controlled by The Leash.”

“So you’re pretty confident that the bulk of assets are being used by individuals for personal service?”

“It seems that way,” I respond. “They’re still too expensive to be feasible in an unskilled laborer. These men are commodities and status symbols right now. Their intrinsic value is directly linked to the exclusivity of the Leash society.”

“You mean people want them simply because they’re hard to get?”

“Precisely. Let’s be honest, as skilled as they are, there’s nothing Kip and Zero can do that I couldn’t pay a fraction of their price to a team of workers for the same level of satisfaction. The value is in having them around all the time and knowing that they can’t run off and sell my story to the tabloids or file a lawsuit. They’re not cost-effective, but luxury items don’t need to be.”

“That’s a bit of a relief. I was worried I might have to start watching my back wherever I go. I mean, this technology is undetectable. It could be anywhere…”

She trails as my comm-link pings. I answer it quickly, and on the other end Kip is looking a bit frazzled.

“We’re finished,” he says, and then quietly, “or as close as we’re going to get.”

“I’m in a meeting at the moment,” I respond. “Did you have some shopping to do? I left both of you a card along with your I.D.s, so go ahead and shop for a bit. Try not to max out the cards, alright?” I tease. “I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

I turn back to Mari, who has an amused smile on her face, and ask, “So where were we?”

“I think we were about done with that topic. So tell me, what’s your next step? Now that you have two assets, where do you go from here?”

“I’ve already contacted another owner about making an appearance,” I reply, not mentioning that the contact happened only yesterday. It’s the same owner who introduced himself at the Oasis, and I’m hoping to take one or both of my assets to his club for the owners-only night. “I wanted to give Kip some time to settle in, but it’s already been a week and the progress isn’t as far along as I’d hoped. Zero’s sexual training has been stunted by his use of suppressants, as well.” She doesn’t know I haven’t had sex with Zero yet. I don’t feel it’s necessary to tell her.

“Do you think they’re ready?”

“To be honest,” I tell her, rubbing a hand across my forehead, “I’m not sure, and I’ve only got a couple weeks to get there. I don’t know if I’ll be better off taking them both, or if I’ll have my hands full just watching one. I might take one or the other, whichever asset makes better progress this week. Or I might take them both, if I think they can handle it.”

“Just keep in mind the end-game here,” Mari chides. “This isn’t just about you showing off. You need to focus on getting assets to compete. Whether it’s these two or others that you purchase, the point is the Competition.”

“I’m aware of that,” I respond, bristling. “It’s not a quick thing. If I rush this, I’ll ruin my chances of getting inside information on quality assets.” I don’t mention that I’m worried about getting more assets. Zero can probably compete and Kiplan can be put as a spare if his skills aren’t good enough, but any more than that? As a new owner, there’s a limit on how many assets I can purchase. I need five competitors and a spare. What if I purchase bad assets? Will I be able to bring myself to sell them? Certainly not Kip or Zero, since I’ve already put so much time into them, but others? If it’s for the mission, will I be able to throw them back to the wolves?

           “I just don’t want you to get too comfortable,” she sighs, jarring me back from my thoughts. “This is deeper cover than you’ve ever been in before, and it’s under your own name. The lines between deception and reality are going to start to blur.”

“I can handle it,” I growl back. If they’d had any suspicion that I’d go rogue, why would they have put me here?

“It’s not about that,” she retorts. “I don’t think you’re going to show up to one of these parties and never want to leave. I’m more worried about your assets.”

“Zero and Kip? What about them?”

She takes a breath and lets it out slowly, and I can see her trying to wrestle with her patience.

“It’s about how close you are to them. You’ve never had one-on-one time undercover like this. Not for this much long, or for a character that’s basically yourself. I know these boys probably act like happy, well-adjusted individuals, but they’re not. They’re captives, they’re slaves, and they’re victims. I don’t want you losing sight of that as this progresses. You’re going to have less contact with me as you get deeper into the Leash, and I don’t want you forgetting what your true purposes is. I don’t want them tempting you to stay permanently.”

“I know what’s at stake here. I just want them free.”

“I know you do, and I believe that you’re dedicated to that as an end-game. But, in the meantime, you’re going to have to push these boys very hard. Sometimes, you’ll have to do things you don’t like. I don’t want these boys to tempt you into breaking character. They need to be saved, but only in a way that eliminates the entire organization. More than saving these two men’s lives, you need to crush this entire organization.”

I’ve never been questioned before on my ability to keep reality and my persona separate. Maybe this is different because I’m using my true identity as my cover. Maybe it’s because I’m going to be in for so long and go so deep into this culture. Whatever the reason, I don’t like being questioned on my dedication and reliance, and Mari knows it.

I narrow my eyes at her and say, “I know better than anyone what horrors these boys have endured. I can’t spare them from it, but I can end it. I want freedom and justice for all of them.”

She nods then and says, “Understood,” and that’s essentially the end of our conversation. I’m irritated, which I know she can tell, and Mari thankfully keeps it short. We exchange a few more words of information, and then I excuse myself.

The meeting (and possibly the latte) have left a bad taste in my mouth, and I’m ready to go. I locate Zero and Kip with the tracking information on their comm-links and head their way.

What still remains of my sour mood disappears when I see them. Kip has both arms covered in at least a dozen, heavy-looking bags. I can see labels from ProudGourmet, Happy Healthy, and Earthen Herbs, so I can only assume that Kip has picked up some necessities for gourmet cooking. There’s a small bag at his elbow from Stardust Cosmetics that makes me smile, although it dawns on me that I should have probably gone with him. Oh well, I’ll buy him more if he got the wrong stuff. At least he picked a good brand. Walking beside him, Zero has both his hands in his pockets and seems to be unburdened otherwise.

“Didn’t they offer delivery to our docking bay?” I ask Kip as they approach me.

“Oh, yes, sir,” Kip stutters nervously, “but it was an extra fee and I wasn’t sure how much you wanted me to spend.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, taking an armful of bags and handing them off to Zero, “but next time go ahead and have them delivered.” I turn to Zero, who looks a bit miffed at my insistence that he help Kip with his heavy bags. “Didn’t you go shopping?”

“I went to TriggerHappy,” he says with a wolfish grin that I’m not sure is any less-scary than his normal, emotionless face.

“But you didn’t buy anything? I mean, you’re not carrying any bags.”

“I’m  _ carrying _ everything I bought,” he says, his grin widening just a fraction more. It takes me a moment to process the double meaning.

Well, at least his mood has improved.

           I give him a smile in return, and then lead him and Kiplan back to the jump-ship. I’m more than ready to head back to our cruiser.


	12. Pain and Pleasure - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I heard crickets with the last chapter, hopefully this one gets more of a reaction. ;)
> 
> As always, I have to thank my support team IntrepidEm and Marner, but I have to give specific credit to Ygrainne for this chapter. She managed to look it over for me with almost no notice, which is why I'm able to post it so quickly. So a special thanks to her because I really do appreciate her taking time out of her busy schedule to look at this for me. 
> 
> Second reason you're all getting another update: I'm sick as a dog. Yay! No, seriously, I'm miserable. Luckily, I got sick after work on Friday so that I didn't have to miss a day on my first week at the new job (which is very promising. If you're keeping tabs on Ryo's work schedule because easy job = more time to write = more updates, it's looking good.) Anyway, I'm too sick to do anything productive, so I figured I'd post and then go watch an episode of Cute High Earth Defense Club Love. (If you like anime and m/m, this is brilliant. Best thing I've seen since Ouran High School Host Club. Still only dubbed in English, though, unfortunately.)
> 
> Once again, please let me know what you think. We're getting a little bit more sexy here, and I'd really like to know how it comes across. Thanks!

           Kip watches Zero expectantly as Zero sits down to breakfast. It’s a train wreck in the making, but I have no idea how to intervene. At Zero’s place at the table is a plate with his usual dry, whole grain toast and over-easy eggs, but also thinly sliced strip steak and some decoratively placed pieces of avocado. Beside his usual, black coffee is a small bowl of oatmeal, topped with cream and fresh blueberries.

           Kip bites his lip nervously, still standing next to the oven. After a moment of hesitation, he takes a tentative step toward Zero and clears his throat. Zero, who has a neutral expression on his face while contemplating his altered morning meal, glances at Kip.

           “I… Um, I looked into muscle building and a magazine I read said that lean meats and protein supplements in the morning can help. I know you like black coffee, so I added protein powder to the oatmeal. I hope you like it.”

           Zero glances between Kip and the plate, his face still carefully blank, before saying, “Thanks,” in a toneless voice and focusing on his food. He eats methodically and silently, without any indication that he’s enjoying or appreciating the meal.

           Kip hides his disappointment well. His face falls, but only for a moment. Then he’s covering it with a smile and turning to serve me breakfast. Had I been a couple minutes earlier, getting here first instead of arriving while Zero was already being served, perhaps I could have intervened instead of merely witnessing the scenario. I’m not really sure what I could have done, though. Kip seems determined to befriend Zero, and I’m afraid that he’s got his heart set on heartbreak.

           My own plate is piled high with scrambled eggs and sliced steak, also with avocados and some fire-roasted tomatoes, topped with a bit of homemade sour cream. It’s served with a warm cinnamon roll and my traditional morning latte, this morning with a hazelnut flavor. Kip settles himself across from me, with a similar plate to mine except that he forgoes any kind of pastry and replaces the coffee with a hot tea. His face is neutral, but he eats lethargically. There’s a clearly melancholy air about him.

           “This is very good,” I compliment, trying to drag him out of his mood. “The sear on the steak is very nice.”

           “Oh,” he says, quickly turning his attention to me. “Thank you, Master. I was hoping you’d like it. I purchased the avocados on our shopping trip, but the tomatoes are from your garden. The steak was flash-frozen, but it’s a very good quality. I was wondering… I mean, you haven’t said if you have a preference for beef or poultry, so…”

           “Either is fine,” I respond. “I like variety, so cook whatever you’re in the mood for.”

              “Yes, Master.”

              I turn my attention to Zero, who is still pulling his robot trick and eating without showing any kind of facial expression. I haven’t seen that particular mood in a while.

              “Zero,” I call to get his attention, “I’d like you to help Kip with some cleaning and then finish your exercise for the day. I plan to give you another lesson this afternoon, so you probably won’t be able to exercise again afterwards.”

           Zero gives me an unhesitant nod, but I can see Kip from the corner of my eye. His back straightens and he gives me a wary glance, but he doesn’t comment on my instructions. I wonder, is he thinking I would want him to join in the lesson as well? It’s a bit too early for that, as Kip is still settling and recovering. Soon, though. I’ve been thinking that in the next couple days I’ll start training him in accepting pain from me. Something less strenuous, since his body hasn’t fully recovered yet. I’ve had Zero on the bench before, perhaps I’ll put Kip on it as well. It would be easier on him than standing, if nothing else. I’d like to start with pain, since his background makes it seem like he has more experience in pleasure. I’m assuming that I’ll need more time to train him in pain, and that pleasure will come naturally.

           I have work to do after breakfast, so I finish quickly and leave while Kip and Zero are still eating. There’s a meeting this morning for the board of directors for Price Enterprises, and if I want to act like I’m taking a more active role in the company then I need to attend. It’s nauseatingly boring, filled with rambling explanations of facts and figures that, honestly, could probably all be found on the company website.

           Three hours later, I’ve made my required appearance but don’t feel any more informed about my company, although I think that’s probably just the nature of board meetings. I’m well aware that a lot of my directors are simply figureheads, and I know that I’ll have to work on that if I ever truly want to manage my own affairs. In all honestly, I’ve given more than a passing thought to simply selling my part of the company after this mission is over. I might be the majority stockholder, but I don’t really consider myself emotionally tied to the company, even if it is my family’s legacy. Perhaps I could call it an early retirement.

           I don’t want my frustration to influence my interaction with Zero, so I take some time to swim a few laps in the pool. I generally swim for a couple hours every day, but I don’t want to tire myself out. I swim just until I feel that the frustrated energy has bled away, then I shower and change into black slacks and a navy blue, silk shirt.

           Zero is still training when I’m ready, but that’s to be expected since I didn’t give him exact time parameters. Honestly, I hadn’t been sure how long I would be able to sit through the long-winded discussion on taxes and dividends in my company’s meeting. I take a moment to watch Zero, dressed in tight black shorts and a blue tanktop, as he completes a complicated set of martial arts movements. There’s sweat pouring down his skin, making the fabric of his top cling to his back. I watch the flex of his shoulders and the arch of his back as he completes a set of quick jabs and high kicks, and then somersaults backwards and lands in a defensive crouch. If he’s practicing a specific style of martial arts, it’s one I’ve never seen. Given my basic training in self-defense and hand to hand combat, it looks like Zero might be practicing some kind of mixed martials arts or street fighting. Whatever it is, I wouldn’t want to have to face it without a weapon. Possibly even with a weapon.

           “Zero,” I call, and it startles him out of his focus. His eyes shift to me and his stance relaxes. “Clean up and meet me in the training room. Don’t bother dressing. I’ll be waiting for you there.”

           He nods and turns on his heel without a word, heading toward the gym’s showers. I watch him go, admiring the way his tight shorts cling to his ass, and I don’t bother to suppress the hint of lust that flutters in my groin. We’ll be getting to that soon enough.

           When Zero finds me in the training room, I’m settled in a simple, straight-backed, armless chair. What I have planned for today doesn’t require any complicated equipment – actually, it’s one of the simplest scenes I’ve planned so far.

           Zero comes to stand about a foot in front of me, awaiting orders. His stance is relaxed, his hands held loosely at his side. He isn’t intimidated by this room any longer. In the weeks since Kip came to live with us, Zero and I have continued to practice his submission in various set-ups and with several different implements. Some of the sessions have been as simple as having him crawl beside me and wait at my feet. Others have included complicated bondage, sometimes with or without the use of flogging instruments. The only session he showed any nervousness about was the one where I restrained him and blindfolded him. Because of his anxiety, I only touched him gently during that exercise, reinforcing his trust in me.

           “How did things go with Kip?” I ask him.

           “Fine,” he responds with a tense and dismissive shrug of his shoulders.

           “Is something wrong?”

           “No.”

           More likely than an argument is that Zero simply ignored him all morning. If anyone’s upset about it, it’s probably Kiplan, who takes Zero’s cold attitude so strongly to heart.

           “Zero…” I hesitate, “I know you don’t like Kip, but I would appreciate it if you at least tried to get along.”

           His shoulders tense and he gives me a sharp look. “Is that what this is about? Am I being punished?”

           “No,” I tell him quickly. I don’t want him to get the idea that this session has anything to do with a failure on his part. “I would never surprise you with a punishment. If I use pain to correct your behavior, it will be for a rule you knew you were breaking. I would not physically correct you for a mistake, only for a blatant disregard of my wishes.”

           He nods once, sharply, but is still tense.

           “Zero,” I tell him softly. “Kip is not a threat to what you have with me. Don’t make him one. Don’t put him between us, and I’ll endeavor to treat you as I always have.”

           His brow creases, contemplating my words again, but his shoulders finally relax. The tension in him eases, but he’s still quiet. That’s alright, though. This session will not be nearly as strenuous as others, either mentally or physically. I need something to take Zero’s mind off of all the changes and get him to reconnect with me. With everything that’s going on, I’ve decided to do something more low-impact. I smile at Zero, shifting back in my chair and beckon him closer.

           “Put yourself over my knees,” I tell him. He lifts an eyebrow, but comes willingly toward me. He hesitates at my side, seeming uncertain on how to proceed, so I take his wrist and pull him down across my lap. When he settles, I have one thigh bracing his pelvis and one under his chest, bracing him as comfortably as possible. His head is on my left and I stroke my fingers through his short hair, resting my right hand on his hip.

           “Tell me,” I ask him quietly, “have you ever been spanked?”

           He turns his head to look at me, giving me an amused look, and says, “I don’t think so, sir.”

           My hand slides across his hip, dipping around to cup his ass. Zero’s legs are tensed, his toes braced against the floor to give him some limited leverage. Gravity has tucked his testicles between his legs, out of the way and safe from harm. I might change that later, depending on how this goes. For now, I run my fingers across his skin gently, sensitizing his flesh. Then I raise my hand and bring it down in a quick, stinging blow.

           Zero let’s out a puff of air, probably more from surprise than pain. I know from experience that Zero’s pain tolerance far exceeds anything I could do with a simple spanking. I bring down my hand again, splaying my fingers across his skin as I strike. The impact sends pins and needles into my hand, but I ignore it. I know the pain will quickly fade into a dull ache. I hit him again in the same area, leaving my palm against his skin as I feel it begin to heat under my fingers. A few more hits, and I know his skin will be bright red and nearly hot to the touch.

           I settle into a rhythm of hits, turning my attention to Zero. His body is still taut across my lap, his back and legs held straight and rigid. I think his tension is more about the position, though, instead of the pain. His face, from the side view I can see of it, is still neutral and relaxed. His breathing is deep and even. He seems practically bored.

           “I don’t understand the point of this,” he tells me after a couple dozen hits. “You’ll never manage to damage me like this. And you’ll never hit the end of my endurance.”

           He’s right, of course. Using my hand to hit his ass and thighs, I’m more likely to break my hand than to damage him. The tailbone is the only point of possible damage in this area, and I’m purposefully avoiding it. I bring my hand down on Zero’s rear again, feel the quick jerk of his body and nothing more.

           “Sometimes it’s not about endurance,” I tell him gently, rubbing my fingers across his reddened flesh. “Sometimes it’s just about submitting because I want you to. Sometimes I bring you pleasure, and sometimes I bring you pain. Tonight,” I tell him dipping my fingers into the crease of his ass, “I want to bring you a little of both.”

           He glances at me, his face wary, but I keep my expression neutral. I know he can feel my arousal pressing against his abdomen. Simply having him naked and across my lap would do that.

           “Shift your legs open,” I tell him. There’s a single moment of hesitation that tells me how nervous Zero is, then his legs spread for me. My fingers tease between them, running down the line of his ass and running over his testicles. He seems far less bored than he was a moment ago.

           I cup his balls in my fingers, stroking them gently before pulling them out of the protection of Zero’s thighs. Zero’s legs have to come forward to make this possible, now somewhat tucked under my chair and no longer braced on the floor. Zero acquiesces to my gentle prodding, though I can see a concerned frown edge across his face. I nudge Zero’s legs closed, trapping his testicles in their exposed position. I hear Zero’s breath hitch, and I think he has an idea of what I’m planning.

           “Will you accept this pain from me?” I ask him, skimming my fingers over his delicate sac. “This is something we haven’t done before, and I’m giving you the choice this time. We can end this scene now, with no future repercussions. Or you can let me strike you one more time, and then we’ll focus on exchanging pleasure. It’s your choice.”

           He’s silent a moment, and I’m sure someone who’s fought as much as he has knows what kind of pain I’m going to bring him. The idea of avoiding that pain is certainly tempting; I know it is, I chose this exercise because of how eager he would be to avoid being struck there. I wouldn’t blame him if he chose to forgo pleasure to avoid pain, but I’m hoping that the pleasure I offer will be enough to sway his decision. I’m hoping we’re to the point where an orgasm is a reward and not a punishment in itself.

           Finally, after several seconds have passed, Zero gives a sharp nod and lowers his head. His body tenses, expecting an immediate assault. I take a moment to run my hand down his sides and across his ass. His skin is still heated beneath my fingers, still probably stinging from my strikes. I circle his testicles with my fingers, making a shiver run down Zero’s spine. Then, finally, I raise my hand slowly, giving Zero plenty of warning that the strike is coming. Zero tenses automatically, but there’s nothing he can do to protect his most vulnerable area.

           My hand comes down with a resounding slap. My aim is good, coming down over both of Zero’s testicles. Zero lets out a garbled, half-suppressed noise of pain and curls into himself as best he can over my legs. Despite the agony, he does not try to leave my lap or push me away. His curled form shakes and I hear him groan in pain. I run my fingers through his hair and kiss the back of his neck.

           “So good for me,” I praise. “You’re so beautiful when you take pain from my hand.”

           We sit in silence for several minutes, with me running my fingers down Zero’s back. Eventually, his choking gasps turn into even breaths, and finally he turns to look at me. His face is a bit pale, but otherwise he shows no signs of the pain he’s just received.

           “When you’re ready,” I tell him softly, “I want you to go to your knees.”

           Zero nods and takes a shaky breath before slipping from my lap and kneeling between my knees. His eyes meet mine evenly, without fear or trepidation. Even now, after bringing him such sharp pain, his faith in me had not wavered.

           “Use your hands to take my cock out, and then hold them behind your back while you pleasure me with your mouth.”

           Zero nods and obediently unzips my pants, pulls out my cock, and puts his hands behind his back. I feel his breath across the skin of my member just a moment before I’m encompassed by the heat of Zero’s mouth. Zero takes my length easily, as my cock is only half-hard. Sucking gently, Zero presses his nose against my pelvis, pulling back slowly only when my swelling cock fills his mouth.

           He’s gotten good at this. I lean back in my chair and spread my legs, letting his head bob between my knees. Zero’s gag reflex is almost non-existent by this point, trained out of him by his own sheer stubbornness. As long as he takes it slow, he can convince his throat to relax and let almost my full length fill his mouth. He does this now, as my fully-hardened cock slowly slips down his throat, his nose once again brushing against my pubic hairs. When I’m fully settled, Zero swallows and the contractions of his throat make me groan. Zero does it again and again, until he finally has to pull off to breathe. Zero’s also gotten quite adept at holding his breath, but that might be a skill he had before I trained him.

           It doesn’t take Zero long to bring me to the edge, not with as aroused as I already am. He laps at the head of my cock, making me shudder, before bobbing his head in a deliberate rhythm. Unwilling to let Zero use his hands but also craving the pressure of a hand on my cock, I reach down and grab my testicles and the base of my cock. It takes only moments after that, and I can feel that I’m teetering on the edge of my orgasm.

           “Don’t swallow,” I instruct him, and the hand that had been cupping my testicles comes up to the back of his head, guiding his strokes while remembering that he still has to breathe. “I want to see my seed painting your lips before you ingest it.”

           Zero gives no indication that he hears me, but I know he’s listening. In another moment, I forget the instructions, forget everything but the feel of Zero’s hot mouth around my cock and the waves of pleasure that are crashing over me. I bury my cock in Zero’s mouth, feeling my cock twitch and spurt halfway down his throat. I can hear my own howl of pleasure echoing in my ears. My body goes tight as a bowstring as the pleasure courses through me.

           As quick as it comes, the flood of pleasure recedes. My body sags against the chair, and my still-hard cock slips from Zero’s mouth. His lips are speckled with my come, and he keeps his mouth open just wide enough that I can see the traces of white semen on his tongue. If my cock weren’t already quickly softening, I’d feel a stir of arousal at the wanton sight. I reach forward and drag my thumb across his lip, smearing the fluids that are gathered there. His lips are pink and irritated, glossy with a mix of saliva and come. Between his legs, I can see that his cock is showing the barest hint of arousal, which is astonishing considering the treatment I’d given his balls only a few minutes ago.

           “Swallow,” I instruct. Zero’s mouth snaps shut and he swallows my seed in a single, dramatic gulp and then opens his mouth again as proof. I slip my thumb into his mouth and run it along his tongue – not because I don’t believe he’s swallowed, but because I like the feel of his mouth around my fingers.

           “Stand,” I order even as I’m tucking my cock back into my pants. Zero rises to his feet without moving his hands, as I haven’t said he can move them yet. “Spread your legs,” I tell him as I slip off of my chair and kneel between his open legs.

           Zero makes a startled noise when I take his cock in my mouth, although he undoubtedly knew that this is what I had planned. We’ve yet to have a scene together where I didn’t give him an orgasm. I probably should start using orgasm denial as one of my training methods, but it seems a bit counter-productive as I’m still training him to reach an orgasm for me.

           Zero’s cock hardens fully as I lap at the underside, slipping it into my mouth and then back out in a teasing manner. Zero’s cock has to be teased and prodded toward pleasure, it can’t simply be thrust upon him or he goes into sensory overload. Sometimes I simply ghost my breath across his flesh and watch as he groans and thrusts his hips. I tease the tip of his cock with kittenish licks and he sobs out a breath, struggling to hold himself still.

           There’s no order of restraint on my hands, unlike Zero’s, so I soon find myself cupping and stroking Zero’s balls even while my mouth works his length. I can taste salty, bitter drops of precome on my tongue, but Zero is still not close to reaching his pleasure. I roll his testicles in my hands again, feeling the way his legs tremble around me.

           “Put your hands on my shoulders for balance,” I allow, knowing that orgasms are hard enough for him to reach without the added problem of losing his balance. He moves his hands to my shoulders immediately, even settling some weight onto me to help him remain standing.

           With the threat of falling eliminated, Zero quickly begins to lose himself to the pleasure. I suckle the head of his cock with my mouth, running my hand down his length with hardly any pressure on his skin. Anything more would be too much for him, but anything less wouldn’t be enough to get him to climax. I keep my pace steady and just a bit slow, but it’s more than enough for Zero. Soon, I can feel the pressure building in him. I increase my pace by just a hair and watch his face as the pleasure hits him.

           Zero always looks just a bit surprised by his own pleasure, like he can’t quite believe it. He makes noise, but its small noises, ones that are so close to pained cries that they’re almost indistinguishable. His eyes go wide and his jaw clenches, and finally he gives an almost sobbing sound. I feel his cock twitch in my mouth and pull back, stroking his length gently as I let his come splatter down my chest. I wonder how much longer I’ll get to do this, how many more times I’ll get to wring an orgasm from Zero before I have to cave to the standards of The Leash. Do other owners bring their assets to orgasm? Do they enjoy the pleasure of their assets just as acutely as the pain? I somehow doubt it, but I can’t be certain.  

           The orgasm fades quickly and Zero is left trembling, his hands on my shoulders possibly the only thing keeping him up. I smile softly and pull him down into my lap, letting him curl into me with a sated smile on his face.

           We sit quietly for several minutes, but it’s too good to last. Finally, Zero speaks and breaks the moment.

           “When will you take me fully?” he asks and I hear the frustration in his voice.

           “Soon,” I assure him. “I don’t want to rush this. It will be your first time accepting a man into your body, and I want you to be ready.”

           “Does it need to be _special_ because it’s my first time?” he asks with an arched, mocking eyebrow. “Do you want flowers and candles? Should I expect romance like I’ve seen in the vids? It’s just sex, and I’m ready now.”

           “It’s not…” I start, and then cut myself off with a frustrated noise. Why does he need to rush everything? Why can’t he just trust my judgement for once? “I don’t want to surprise or overwhelm you. This is a big step for someone who just learned to orgasm a couple weeks ago. If at all possible, I’d like you to watch Kiplan first and get a sense of what it will be like. You have trouble accepting pleasure already. I don’t want you to be overwhelmed.”

           There’s an unspoken “like last time” that I know Zero realizes. I haven’t tried to have sex with Zero yet, but only because I’ve encountered so many problems bringing him any kind of pleasure. When I had originally tried to give him an orgasm a few weeks ago, he’d been so overwhelmed that I had to pull back and allow him to finish on his own. We’ve worked past that by now, but Zero still struggles with pleasurable stimulation. I don’t want sex to be something that’s only painful for him if he can’t adjust himself to accepting pleasure during the act.

           “I could just watch porn,” he says, “if you need me to research the parameters of male sexual submission.” The comment surprises me enough that I’m the silent one this time. “What?” he growls, annoyed and impatient. “I’m an adult. I’ve seen porn.”

           Given his lack of ability to react to porn until recently, I can’t imagine he stumbled on it for pleasure. Youthful curiosity? Unlikely. Most probably is a scenario where he saw someone else watching it while Zero was on surveillance, or possibly his owner watched it while Zero was on guard. Probably the same scenario that let him watch “romance vids,” I suppose. Either way, porn isn’t really a solution to our problem.

           “I wasn’t questioning… I’m not sure that’s the same,” I tell him. “Those are skilled actors who use a lot of tricks to make sex seem more glamorous and athletic than it really is. Real sex isn’t like that.”

           “Then tell me what it is like,” he growls. “Or, better yet, _show_ me.”

           “Zero,” I sigh, stroking my fingers through his hair. “Can’t you just be pleased by the progress we’ve made? Don’t you see how far you’ve come already?”

           He doesn’t answer, but he huffs in response and his shoulders relax, so I suppose he’s given up the fight, at least for now.

           “Come,” I tell him gently. “Let’s get a bath together. It’s become a tradition with us, don’t you think?”

           “I should return to my training,” he responds, his tone flat again. “I’m not nearly as damaged as you implied.” Like pain would stop him from his exercise anyway.

           “No,” I tell him, my voice soft but stern. “This may have been a low-impact session, but it’s no less straining than others. You need time to recover your equilibrium, even if you can’t feel it.”

           “But-”

           “Zero,” I warn, “I’ve been lenient with you lately, letting you make your own training schedule and practice as much as you please. Don’t test my patience now, or you won’t like the results.”

           In some ways, I’ve had to let Zero create his own training regimen. Zero’s skills far exceed my expectations, and I’m not an expert in physical combat. But if all this freedom is going to result in rebellion, then I’ll have to pull him back. I can’t have him bucking my command, even if it hurts his chances of winning the Competition.

           Thankfully, Zero lowers his head demurely and says, “I apologize, Master.”

           Still, this behavior troubles me. I put my hand against his cheek and run my fingers down to his chin, then tilt his head so that I can see those glimmering, slate-colored eyes.

           “You act like one missed afternoon is going to make a difference. Surely you’re not still concerned that I’ll sell you if you don’t perform? You know me better than that by now, don’t you?”

           He shakes his head, his eyes on mine and showing no signs of being dishonest.

           “I trust that you would find a use for me even if my fighting skills were to fail,” he responds. “I don’t train because I think I need to, I train because I enjoy it. I like being the best and having the ability to protect those around me. Also, the routine of it is familiar to me and there’s something… comforting,” he says, although he makes a face like the word is distasteful, “about the familiarity. As you’ve said, I’ve had to adapt to many changes recently. Training gives me a sense of normality.”

           “I won’t take that away from you,” I assure him, “but I have other priorities as well. I need to start showing you to other owners soon, and I need you to be ready for that.”

           “Yes, Master,” Zero responds easily. It seems we’ve come to an agreement, then.

           As I lead Zero back to the sleeping quarters, I think about telling him that I’m going to introduce Kip to our submission training soon. I haven’t talked about it with Kip yet either, mostly because I think Kip would worry himself into exhaustion before we even start. Better to bring him into it without any knowledge and show him what it’s like, rather than have him fill his own mind with fears that I have to deal with before we can begin. Perhaps it’s a similar situation with Zero, that I don’t want to deal with his attitude for the next few days before I start training Kip. Either way, I decide to stay silent and not borrow trouble by giving them time to make things worse.

           Whatever comes tomorrow, I’ll simply deal with it then.


	13. Failed Submission - Kip POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This'll be quick since I'm DEFINITELY gonna be late for work. I know this chapter is going to push some buttons since isn't not a warm and cuddly chapter like we've been doing a lot of so far. Try to keep an open mind and let me know what you think. The next chapter is something like a part two to this chapter, so I'll try to post it as soon as I can. 
> 
> Hope you all are staying warm!
> 
> I couldn't do this without my support team. IntrepidEm, Marner, and Ygrainne are all awesome for helping me out with this!
> 
> Please don't forget to leave comments or kudos if you like/didn't like/are indifferent to my fic. Just let me know you're out there. Thanks for reading!

          “I’m sorry! Please, Master, I’m sorry! I don’t know what I did! I’m sorry!”

          It’s useless, but I can’t keep the panicked pleas from tumbling out of my mouth. I stutter and back away, trying to think of anything I could have done to warrant this kind of punishment.

          I’m more frightened by the idea that I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m afraid that this is Master Zeke finally showing his true colors.

          The room I’m in is filled with implements of torture. It’s dimly lit, and I’m so frantic that I can hardly tell how large it is. I can’t see most of the equipment, simply outlines in the shadows, which is possibly more terrifying. The area that’s lit has a wall with restraints where Zero is being held and a table covered in implements of torture, and some kind of leather-covered bench with straps dangling from it. Zero is naked and watching me, his face as neutral as ever even while his wrists are held by manacles.

          I’m naked as well, but still free from bondage. My clothes are back in my room, where I left them when I’d hoped this was going to be about sex and not punishment. I’d felt my stomach plummet when I entered this room, but I had still been hoping to minimize my pain by being obedient. When Master had told me to get on the bench with the restraints, though, my control snapped.

          I can feel adrenaline coursing through me and it makes me vaguely nauseous. My hands are shaking. I just can’t seem to stop begging for mercy that I’m not really expecting. I know I’m making things worse for myself.

          “Kip, stop,” Master Zeke says firmly. It halts my steps as I back away, but I can’t help the fear coursing through me or the shaking of my limbs. “You’re not in trouble. I’m not going to harm you.”

          He says harm and not hurt, I think, because whatever he’s about to do is going to hurt very much. The fact that I’ll survive is a small consolation when my life from now on will probably be filled with pain. I try to think – Did I burn something? Did I do something to displease him? Is there any reason that he’s given up on me as a domestic, and now plans to torture me?

          “I’m sorry! Please! You don’t need to do this! I can be good! I can do whatever you want! You don’t have to hurt me! I can do better!”

          It’s a lie. I know it even as it spills from my lips. I don’t think I can do any better than I have been. I’ve been trying so very, very hard to please Master. I’ve used all of my cooking skills, tailored my meals to his preferences, and even designed new recipes just to please him. I’ve cleaned the ship from top to bottom, changed the air-filters in all the rooms to remove any traces of dust, laundered the linens in all the guest rooms so they smell fresh and pleasant, scrubbed all the floors, and dusted all the rooms. I’ve trimmed and pruned the gardens where the plants overflowed their containers, recalibrated the nutrients for better growth, and harvested all the produce that was still usable. I managed to freeze or use all the excess vegetables, like I’d been trained under my last owner.

          And I’ve done it all without complaint, and without help from Zero, who still treats me like a nuisance. Without being asked or ordered, I’ve made a schedule of maintenance for every room on this ship, so I know that everything’s getting cleaned at least once a week. The amount of work involved is grueling by myself, but I know I’ll get no assistance from Zero. I don’t dare ask Master to buy another domestic to help, for fear he’ll think I’m lazy or not worth the cost he’s already put into me. Most nights, I’m getting just a hair more sleep than Zero, but I don’t have his constitution. My headaches are back, just in short bursts for now, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep this up.

          Master Zeke lays a hand on my cheek and I whimper, but manage not to flinch back. I’ve probably made things bad enough for myself with the begging. I don’t want to anger him more by pulling away.

          He looks so different now. He’s wearing leather pants and black boots, with a crimson vest that hangs loosely from his shoulders. It makes his eyes look icy blue in stark comparison to the ruby fabric. I can’t help feeling intimidated by him.

          “You need to calm down and do as I say,” he tells me gently. I shiver in fear. He doesn’t even sound angry! I don’t understand! He’s been so kind to me, how could that all be a lie?

          I whimper and nod because I can’t trust my voice right now. Master Zeke pulls back as I turn toward the bench. My breath is coming in stilted, panicked gasps. I feel a hot tear slide down my face, but I try to hold them back. If I break before he even-… before he even starts to beat me, then what will I have to offer him?

          The instinct is there to run, even though I know I can’t get away. I feel like a wounded bird trapped by a cat, as Master Zeke stares at me with that unreadable expression. His blue eyes look at me with something akin to concern, but the stern set of his features doesn’t waver. I don’t understand. I don’t understand this at all!

          I cast a glance to Zero and he’s- Damn him, he’s so hard to read! He looks  _ bored, _ but that must just be his default setting. He hides his emotions well. All I ever get to see from him is anger and apathy. I doubt he’s faking those two.

          But… what if his indifference is a mask? What if he’s actually just as terrified, but he’s better at hiding it? What if his anger at me is because of how much Master Zeke punishes him? What if he’s angry because I haven’t taken my share of the abuse, while leaving it all to him? My eyes go to Zero again and jump to the scars that wrap around his form. My throat catches on a sob, and I realize that I can’t abandon him. Even if I could find a way to convince Master Zeke not to do this, I can’t leave knowing that Zero would face my portion of the punishment as well. I can’t just leave him to face this alone!

          I move toward the bench and my limbs feel like jelly. I’m shaking so hard that my movements are almost spastic. My knees are trembling so badly that I feel like I’m going to collapse at any moment. I put my shaking hands against the bench for support and they sink into the deceptively soft, plastic-covered cushion. I feel lightheaded and nauseous, and I stumble when I lift my knee to try to mount the bench. I give another gasping sob as I try to hold back my racing heart. It’s pounding so hard against my ribcage that it hurts, and the sound of blood rushing in my ears is deafening. I feel like there’s no way I can survive this. I’m not strong like Zero! I’ll shatter like glass, and no one will bother to pick up the pieces!

          I feel Master’s hand on my arm and I flinch away instinctively, then immediately regret it. That’s all I need, I think to myself hysterically, is to make him angrier. When he reaches for me again, I clench my teeth and force myself to remain still, even as he moves into my space and covers my cowering body with his own.

          “Alright, enough,” he says, and pulls me against his chest. I choke on my fear, but his arms come around me gently, and he presses my face against the warm skin of his chest. Am I so pathetic that he’s taken pity on me? But I can’t leave Zero alone in this nightmare. Could I beg him to spare us both?

          “Please,” I whimper, trying to wrap all of my thoughts and fears into that one plaintive syllable. He shushes me, his arms firm but comfortable around my torso. 

          His voice is soft and soothing as he says, “I’m sorry, I guess I should have prepared you for this, but I thought you’d just worry yourself sick.”

          “I don’t,” I say with a hiccup, “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

          “I know,” Master says gently, pulling back just enough that he can look me in the eye, “but that’s the point. Do you trust me? You’ve only been with me a short time, but have I ever harmed you? Or lost my temper? Or lashed out?”

          I shake my head, because he’s never been anything but exceedingly kind. Rather than making me relieved, though, that frightens me even more. This behavior is so completely out of character for him that I have no idea how far it will go or what he might do. The only reassurance I have is that Zero is still alive even after enduring this, but Zero is much harder to kill than I am. There’s no guarantee that I can survive what Zero takes.

          “I need you to trust me,” Master Zeke says again. “It’s important that we established trust before I take you with me to see other Owners. So I want you to take a break and calm yourself, and then we’ll try again.”

          He pulls away from me then and leads me to the corner of the room closest to where Zero is restrained. There’s a thick padding on the floor that he guides me to kneel on. The wall has several restrains hanging down, and Master selects a thick, leather collar tethered to the wall by a two-foot line of chain. My breath catches in my throat as he puts it on me, but the inside is lined with something soft and furry. Master leaves it loose enough that I can breathe easily when he locks it in place, and I feel my body start to calm as he moves away.

          My pulse picks back up when he approaches Zero, who’s still pinned with his arms above his head by the manacles around his wrists. Zero doesn’t look nervous at all, though. He’s actually slouched against the wall behind him, with an expression that seems bored and irritated. 

          “I don’t understand why I have to be restrained,” Zero grouses as Master reached up to release the manacles from his wrists. “You know I won’t flinch when you strike me.”

          “Hm, three points with that,” Master Zeke responds. “One, I don’t need a reason to restrain you. Two, it’s still safer to restrain you so that you don’t flinch if you’re surprised. It’s still likely to happen every time we introduce a new implement, like today. And three, you’ll be restrained when I’m working with Kiplan so that I don’t have to worry about you interfering, and vice versa.”

          “I wouldn’t interfere,” Zero argues as his wrists are freed, but it lacks heat. Honestly, I can’t fathom that he’s arguing at all, given the fact that he  _ just got released from his manacles. _ Who knows how long Master Zeke will keep him restrained if he’s pissed off?

          “That’s not the point,” Master counters. “The point is that I don’t have to worry about you, so that I can focus all my attention on Kip. Now, I want you over the bench. We’re going to try a new technique today.”

          I don’t know what Master’s talking about, but it doesn’t sound pleasant. I shiver as Zero obediently goes to the bench for Master Zeke. The bench is hip-height and has a long, flat seat at the top that’s covered by a thick padding, and two legs at each end coming off at an angle. From the back, it’s shaped a bit like a triangle with the top point cut off.

          Instead of trying to climb on top of it, like I had, Zero stands at the end of the bench and bends over it. Master Zeke straps his ankles and thighs to the legs of bench. His wrists get secured halfway down the front legs. The rest of his body, from his shoulders to his hips, lays on the cushion of the bench. There’s a headrest to support his neck, but he’s not restrained by it. He casts a glance at Master behind him before laying his face on the padded pillow. I know, from glancing at it earlier, that there’s a hollow center in the headrest, so that Zero can put his face against the pillow and still breathe easily.  

          Master Zeke steps back and surveys his work, then turns to the table. He picks up the belt and my breath catches in fear, but he fastens it around his waist. He selects a long, thin rod with a leather handle and hangs it at this hip. Then he grabs a strange instrument that I’ve never seen before. It has a short leather handle, then has a dozen or so thin strips of leather attached to it. He swings it a couple times, then steps beside Zero.

          The bench is angled away from me, giving me a clear view of Zero’s restrained lower body and Master Zeke’s intimidating profile. I am, for all intents and purposes, an unwilling, captive audience to what’s about to happen to Zero. I tug at my collar, but it’s no use. There’s nowhere for me to go even if I could get free. I wrap my arms around my knees and huddle in the corner. There’s nothing I can do for Zero except watch and hope he’s as strong as he seems. 

          “This is a flogger,” Master Zeke explains to Zero, bringing the instrument where he can see it. I seem to be, thankfully, forgotten. “It has twelve tails made of imitation leather, which means that it’s sturdy and I can hit you quite hard with it. The leather is rounded, so it’s unlikely to break the skin. It’s ten inches long, so you’ll feel a long stripe of impact. You’re going to feel this item more on your skin than in your muscles, since it’s not a deep-impact toy, like the cane that I’ve used on you before,” he says, gesturing to his hip. “However, that doesn’t mean this will be painless.”

          Master drags the flogger slowly down his back in a curving line, back and forth across his spine.

          “Feel that? How smooth and thin the tails are?” he says. Is he taunting Zero? It doesn’t sound like it. It sounds like a warning, like he’s preparing him. I see the leather tails slip over Zero’s side. The leather straps are long and smooth, about as wide as my pinky finger and half as thick. I see Zero shiver before Master pulls the flogger away.

          Master Zeke steps behind him then, where Zero’s thighs are pinned and exposed. I hold my breath as Master says, “I’m going to start now,” and brings the flogger down in an arch against Zero’s back.

          Zero’s body jumps as the tails make impact with his skin, but I can’t see what kind of damage he’s sustained. I expect Master to raise the tool again immediately, but he lowers it and hooks it to his belt. He steps closer to Zero, running his fingers across the skin that he’s just damaged.

           “How did that feel?” Master asks. 

          “Strange,” Zero responds. “It stings, but it doesn’t hurt. I can feel that it’s not doing any actual damage.”

          “It could, in the hands of someone less skilled,” Master Zeke cautions, “but I don’t intend to harm you.”

          Master steps back and takes the flogger from his belt. It hisses through the air again, coming down across Zero’s thighs. It leaves red marks that look like a dozen tiny scratches, but I can’t see any blood. Just the angry red lines fanned across Zero’s thighs, quickly fading from Zero’s resilient body.

          “I want to hear you,” Master demands. “You need to let people know that it hurts.”

          “But it  _ doesn’t _ hurt,” Zero argues.

          “Then make it  _ sound _ like it hurts,” Master quips back. “I’m not going to overcome your pain threshold, so you need to bring it down. People already know the kind of pain tolerance zeros have. If you’re making noise, they’ll attribute it to my skill.”

          “Or they’ll think I’m weak.”

          “Then you can prove them wrong at the Competition. In the meantime, I want to hear you when I hit you, understand?”

          Zero gives a huff of acknowledgement. When the flogger comes down again and makes another angry swipe against his skin, Zero gives a lackluster, “Ouch.”

          Master Zeke gives a dark frown and takes the cane from his side, giving Zero three quick, hard cracks against his thighs. This time, Zero’s noise of pain seems much more genuine.

          “You can’t act up for me when we’re in front of other owners,” Zeke says sternly. “I won’t have it then, and I won’t tolerate it now.”

          “I’m sorry,” Zero replies, his voice soft again. His shoulders sag contritely, only to tense again as another strike lands. Master has the flogger in his hand, the crop returned to his place on his hip.

          “Ten more,” Master says, “Count them.”

          Zero counts each strike a moment after it connects. He makes an effort to make noise when he’s struck, although it’s usually just a hiss or gasp of breath. Toward the end, he manages a whine that sounds fairly convincing, although I don’t think that he’s actually distressed.

          By tenth hit, Zero’s thighs are covered in crisscrossed red lines. I can’t see his back, but I know there are a few more there, although Master seemed to focus more on his thighs. Master puts the flogger aside again and runs his hands along Zero’s heated flesh. I see Zero turn his face toward Master. His expression seems dazed.

          “How do you feel?” Master asks, a half-smile coming to his face.

          “Good,” Zero responds. “The pain is fading and it feels… good.”

          “Your body released a disproportionate amount of endorphins because of how much pain this item inflicts without harming your body. Now that the pain has faded, you’re left with the leftover endorphins and adrenaline.”

          Zero grunts in response, then leans against Master’s hand when it cups his cheek. His eyes slip closed and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. After all the pain Master just inflicted, Zero still trusts him? Still dares to let his guard down?

          “You did a good job. I know showing weakness is difficult for you, and I can tell that your verbal skills are improving.”

          Master starts to undo the straps that hold Zero down, his fingers making quick work of the buckles. Zero cocks his head in confusion.

          “What are you doing?” he asks.

          “We’re done for the night.”

          “I can take more.”

          “I know you can, but that’s all I want to do for now.”

          “But…”

          “Don’t argue,” Master cuts him off. “I decide how intense of a session we have. If I say we’re done, then we’re done.”

          Zero hunches his shoulders unhappily as he gets himself to his feet, his face pulled in an expression of anger. Master Zeke pushes him against the wall in a gesture that is rough enough to make me gasp, although Zero doesn’t seem fazed. With Zero’s chest pressing against the bare metal, Master pins Zero’s body with his own. Zero’s hands come up to shoulder-height to brace himself and Master covers them, lacing their fingers against the wall. Zero shivers, and I can’t imagine what Master’s weight against his back must feel like. Is it still painful? Is it sore? Burning? Or has the pain mostly gone?

          “You haven’t challenged me like this in a while,” Master says, so close to Zero’s body that he must be able to feel Master’s breath on his skin. “Is it because Kiplan is here? Did you want to show off?”

          Zero shrugs, but it’s obviously an avoidance tactic. I don’t know how to feel about that. Is it that Zero wants me to see him at his best? That he cares what I think of him? Or is it just that he doesn’t want to seem weak in front of me?

          “I’m proud of you,” Master says gently. “I know you want to be good for me. I’m not upset that you’re challenging me, but I can’t allow it either. Now, go sit down next to Kip.”

          Master releases Zero and backs away while Zero comes to sit beside me. I feel like I should say something to him, but I don’t know what, so I remain quiet. Master returns a moment later and wraps a blanket around Zero’s shoulders. Zero rolls his eyes but pulls it around himself as Master secures a cuff to Zero’s ankle. It seems more like a token of restraint than actually being likely to hold Zero.

          Then Master is releasing me and guiding me to my feet. My heart starts to quicken, but I choke down the fear. It’s alright. I can do this. I won’t fail twice in a row.

          I step up to the bench, but I hesitate again. I swallow, but I can’t quite make myself get on it. Master is beside me, waiting for me, and I feel my anxiety rise. How long will he wait before he gets angry?

          But he simply sighs and says, “Kip, I need you to tell me something. Did someone hurt you like this? With your last owner, did he… torture you?”

          “No, sir,” I tell him honestly. “It was never… I was a tool and nothing more. His assets were useful, or he got rid of them.” I don’t mention how strict he was, or how much time I spent shielding other boys from his ire. Even the smallest infractions could land us in solitary confinement, without food or light, for days. “He didn’t- He didn’t punish us more than necessary, and it was rarely physical. But some of the boys I saw with other Owners were scarred in ways that even medical removals couldn’t cover.” I hesitate, biting my lip, then admit, “I’m so weak right now, Master. I feel like you could break me with a strong word.”

          “That’s probably true,” Master mutters, but I don’t think I’m meant to hear it. He says more clearly, “I know how frail you are, Kiplan. You have to trust that I’ll take that into account. You have to trust me.”

          I want to. In the worst way, I want to trust him. But Zero let himself be so vulnerable and I’m… I’m not sure I can do that.

          Master steps close and says, “You’re not terribly submissive, are you?” I jerk to look at him, an apology already forming on my lips, but he cuts me off by saying, “It’s alright. It’s not something you can change, Kip. You take orders well enough, but you’d rather be in control, wouldn’t you? You want to make sure everything is perfect all the time. You’ve never really had anyone take care of you. Or maybe just not in a long time.”

          He’s staring at me curiously and I want to deny it, but I don’t know how. The words he’s saying, they’re all true. I’ve been on my own as a domestic asset for many years now, watching over the newer domestics who come in. I want to help. I want to be of service. The idea of being restrained… it feels like failure to me. Like a punishment.

          “It’s not,” Master Zeke says, and I realize with a start that I must have said something out loud. My thoughts are rushing too fast and I can’t keep them all bottled in. “It’s not a punishment, Kip. Think of it as an obedience challenge. Your only task is to follow my commands as honestly as you can. We’ll work on this obedience exercise, and later we’ll see if we can draw out your submissive tendencies. So now, your first challenge is to mount the bench. Can you do that for me?”

          It… helps. The idea that this is an exercise and not a punishment helps me set aside some of the fear. I take a deep breath. I still feel weak and shaky, but I’m not trembling like I was. I step forward and lean over the bench in the same way Zero did. I’m surprised that I don’t seem to be laying on the bench so much as leaning over it, with some of my weight still supported by my legs.

          I expect Master to rush in and tie me down now that I’m compliant, but he moves slowly beside me, leaning down to adjust my stance. His hands run up the back of my bare legs as he straps my ankles and then my thighs. It’s the first truly sexual touch that I’ve felt from him, despite showering and sleeping together. I don’t find Master’s touch repellant, but I’m too nervous to respond. If he even wants that from me. Am I making too much of this touch?

          “What are you thinking about?” I hear him question as he secures my wrists to the front legs of the bench. “I can practically see your mind wandering.” I have my face turned to the side on the headrest, so I can watch him move. Unfortunately, it also means he can watch me.

          “Are you going to fuck me, Master?” I ask him honestly. I want to be prepared, if that’s going to happen.

          “Yes, but not today,” he responds easily. “Although I thought about bringing some sexual aspects into what we do today. But, no, I’m not going to take you while you’re strapped down.” I’m fully secured now, and his hands wander over my skin, across my shoulders, tracing the line of my spine. His fingers dip into the curve of my ass and I shiver, but they go no further. I know the picture I must present, all immaculate, pale porcelain skin. Have I gained enough weight back to be considered delicate instead of scrawny? I’m not so sure.

          Master pulls away and crosses the room to the table full of implements. My breath hitches and I pull against my restraints, craning my neck to try to see what he’s selected. The flogger, like he used earlier? Or the crop, which made even Zero flinch? Something worse?

          I hear Master returning and I jerk helplessly, pulling at my bindings again. They don’t bite into my wrists, but they also don’t budge. I whimper as he stops beside me, expecting the first blow to come soon after.

          “This is what we’re going to be using today,” he says, and I blink in surprise at the tool in his hand. It’s a paddle of very simple design, with a base about as wide as my hand and a tapered handle. It’s red in color and looks to be made of a thin piece of wood coated in some kind of enamel paint.

          Master smiles at me and says, “Not what you were expecting?” I shake my head. “Don’t underestimate it.”

          Master moves behind me, one hand still braced on my hip. I give a squeak when the paddle comes down across my bottom, the crack of wood on flesh startling me more than the pain, but it isn’t the overwhelming agony that I had been dreading only minutes before. Master hits me once, then pauses.

          “Does it sting?” he asks, his hand moving across the burning mark on my butt. I nod, groaning as his hand moves down my thigh, kneading the flesh there. My skin tingles. I’ve never been under such scrutiny before. I don’t know what I should be doing.

          “Just relax,” Master says, and this time I’m pretty sure I didn’t say anything. Maybe he saw my shoulders tensing? When he’s like this, he’s so focused that it’s like he’s reading my mind. It’s hard enough to hide how pathetic I am normally, it’s practically hopeless now. “I’m going to give you five more strikes. Can you count them for me?”

          “Yes, sir,” I respond immediately, glad to have something to focus on.

          The next strike comes and I jump at the burn across my right thigh. I count it, and the next one comes immediately after, this one hitting on my thigh on the opposite side. It makes me gasp, but I don’t falter in the count. The next strike lands across my butt again, at the juncture between my thighs and the thicker flesh of my bottom. It hurts enough to make me whimper. It’s the third strike, and I count it breathlessly. The next strike lands across the first one, right across the meat of my butt, and I cringe as it overlaps the sting from before. I count it, remembering that there’s only one more left. The last one hits directly over the previous one and makes me cry out and try to pull away. I gasp out the last number, still whimpering and pulling against my restraints.

          “Relax,” Master tells me gently, bringing his hand to my shoulder and stroking my skin. I force the tension from my body, sagging against the bench beneath me, letting it take most of my weight. “You’re doing so well. How do you feel?”

          I want to say, “Like somebody just beat my ass.”

          What actually comes out of my mouth is, “I’m okay, sir.”

          “You don’t have to lie,” he replies easily, his hand sliding down my body, moving easily on my sweat-damp skin.

          “It hurts,” I admit to him. “Burns.”

          “Mm,” he says, “And the rest of you?”

          “Just… kind of tingly. Like I’m… overcharged. Adrenaline?” I guess, and my face is turned, so I can see him nod at me.

          “Are you okay to keep going?” he asks. I wonder if I actually have a choice, before I nod and put my face back down on the headrest.

          “Five more,” Master says. I know I can take it, but I bite down on a whimper. It hurts, damn it! “I won’t make you count them out loud. After the fifth one, I want you to say, ‘I beg you to stop.’ Do you understand? I want you to say those words exactly. Okay?”

          “O-okay,” I reply, although I don’t really understand. What’s he trying to do?

          “Repeat it for me now. Say, ‘I beg you to stop.’”

          “I beg you to stop,” I repeat. It is, apparently, not a trick. Master smiles and praises me, before moving behind me once again.

I clench my fists as the first blow lands. My skin already feels hot and tight, irritated from the earlier trauma, and these new abuses feel like blades across my skin. The second comes quickly after the first, laying across my thighs and making me jerk against my bonds. I whimper when the third strike comes down, lower still on my thighs, hitting just above the crease of my knees. The fourth returns to my butt and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. The fifth hit makes me gasp in pain, and the words, “I beg you to stop!” tumble immediately from my lips.

          “Good,” Master praises immediately, his hand coming to my shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Very good. Take a break for a minute and just focus on breathing.”

          It’s only after he says it that I realize that I’m panting. My skin is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and it’s chilling my body to the point that I feel like I could break out in shivers. I wish I were brave enough to ask Master to release me. Instead, I stay quiet and try to calm my panting breath. Master stays beside me, his fingers running through my hair. I close my eyes and try to enjoy the sensation, try to use it to block out the raw, fiery pain from my lower half.

          Master kneels down next to me, his fingers still in my hair, and says softly, “If you ever need me to stop, for whatever reason, I want you to give me those words. Do you understand? If you use those words, I’ll know that you’re at the end of your tolerance and I’ll try to stop whatever I’m doing as soon as possible. I want those words to become second nature to you. Whenever you’re in trouble, you give me those words.”

          I nod, but I don’t really understand. Is he giving me a code? But why? My mind is fuzzy with adrenaline and pain. I don’t have the energy to contemplate this situation. Why would he give me a secret code? I don’t… I don’t even know. But Master doesn’t press, and I’m too overwhelmed to dwell on it. After several minutes, when my breathing has calmed and the sweat on my skin is starting to dry, Master pulls his fingers from my hair and steps back.

          “Alight, we’re almost done,” he tells me. “I’m going to hit you very quickly now, and I want you to take as many as you can.” I whimper. I’d thought it was over. “Just go as long as you can, and then beg me to stop, alright?”

          “I can’t,” I whine breathlessly. “Please, Master…”

          “Just a bit more,” he consoles. “This is the last thing. I want to test your pain tolerance, and then we’re done,” he promises. “Can you take just a bit more?”

          I nod miserably, hoping that this truly is the last thing. I’m tired, exhausted from these trials on top of a full day of housework. My limbs are all aching from being strapped down, and I can feel a headache stirring behind my eyes. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

          I don’t feel the first hit. I hear the crack, but by the time the pain actually sinks in, I hear the sound of the paddle hitting my flesh again. The pain from both impacts hits me at once and I surge against my bindings, pushing myself to my tiptoes, trying to get loose. Master does not stop, does not even hesitate, and I’ve been hit two more times before I manage to stop struggling. I scream, my body instinctively trying to curl in on itself now that fleeing is not an option, but the bindings prevent even that. I’m hit again and again, all over my thighs and my ass. The burning sensation of earlier is now a full-blown fire. I bite down on my lips to stop myself from shrieking in pain, but it doesn’t help. I taste blood, and scream again. I can’t give up! I can’t let him break me! If I just hold on a little longer, maybe he’ll end it on his own.

          Tears are coursing down my face. My breath comes in ragged, sobbing gasps. I can’t seem to form a coherent thought. I wail as a particularly brutal blow hits my thighs. I struggle, but I can’t get free. I have to throw myself on his mercy, and hope that he actually stops.

          “Please!” I scream, my lower body on fire. “Please, I beg you to stop!”

          The blows stop. Master puts the paddle aside. He undoes my restrains, but the bench is the only thing holding me up, so I don’t move. It doesn’t matter. He pulls me into his arms, the sobbing, shivering mess that I am, and runs his hands gently over my back.

          “That was perfect,” he tells me softly, still cradling more than half my weight in his arms. “That was so beautiful. I saw how hard you struggled not to beg me, and I’m so happy that you said it.”


	14. Successful Submission - Kip POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the second part to the last chapter. Thank you all for being so patient about it! I've had some crazy real-life stuff going on, but I'm still determined to post at least once a week. Thanks for your understanding!
> 
> I couldn't do this without my support team. IntrepidEm, Marner, and Ygrainne are all awesome for helping me out with this!
> 
> Please don't forget to leave comments or kudos if you like/didn't like/are indifferent to my fic. Just let me know you're out there. Thanks for reading!

           Master holds me long enough that I start to sway on my feet, exhausted from my ordeal. Master chuckles and says, “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.” I’d really rather just lay down on the floor, or maybe on the padding next to Zero. Everything hurts and I’m… I’m just done.

           Master leaves me holding on to the wall for support. Zero’s manacles from earlier hang by my face and give me a queasy feeling in my stomach. What if Master decides to leave me here? What if he trusses me up in these manacles and abandons me? I cringe and look away.

           Master is kneeling by Zero, unlocking the ankle cuff. Zero is glaring, and I don’t even have the energy to wonder why. Why would he be mad that Master is  _ letting him go? _

           “Alright,” Master says with a sigh as the restraint opens with a click, “What did I do?”

           Zero’s glare darkens and he yanks his foot away from Master’s hands.

           “You trained him differently than me,” Zero growls, nodding his head at me without actually looking in my direction. I’m too tired to feel hurt. Well, emotionally hurt. Master just looks baffled.

           “What do you mean?”

           “You never asked me to take as many hits as I could.”

           Master laughs. I’m still on edge, and it makes me jump. Even Zero looks surprised. 

           “Because I like you with skin!” he says. “If I’d asked you to take as much as you could, you would have let me flay you alive without whimpering.” Master takes Zero’s chin in his hand and looks at him seriously. “I’ll train the two of you differently because you’re different. It’s as simple as that.”

           Zero nods, his anger fading. Master helps him up, and then comes back to me. I don’t have the energy to decline his support. His arm loops around my waist and I lean into him, because the alternative is falling down or staying here. And I want to be as far away from here as I can get.

           There’s an ache in my head that takes most of my concentration. It’s not a migraine. Or, not a normal migraine. It’s like there’s a headache overtop of a migraine, obscuring it from view. Everything becomes a bit hazy. Decisions are beyond me, so I follow meekly. I haven’t the strength to do anything else.

           I’m in a warm bath. I remember coming in here, but not getting in or sitting down. My legs still ache, but the raw, burning sensation is gone. I think some time must have passed. Zero sits across from me, and he looks tired too. Master is beside me, running a cloth over my shoulders and down my arms, talking to me in low, calming tones about how pleased he is with my performance.

           “Don’t soothe me,” I want to say, if I were brave enough. “You caused this. You made this happen. Don’t use your kind words to make me forget that.” But I want to forget, so I lean in close and let him ease my pain.

           When my skin is wrinkled and I’ve dozed off twice, Master gets me out of the tub. He makes me lay face-down on the bed and he rubs some kind of gel on my thighs and my ass. The pain fades a bit more, until it reminds me of sitting too long on a hard surface. Will I even feel it tomorrow? I want to remember this – that this is the true face of my owner, that this is what he truly wants from me – but I also want to forget. Hours ago, I was confident that I could convince him of my value. Now, I think my only value is in my pain.

           Sleep comes quickly, but not deeply. I wake many times, although I have no idea how long I manage to sleep in between. It feels like only moments. I’m sleeping on my side, obviously, and Master Zeke is asleep in front of me. While I sleep, I dream of him snarling at me, beating me. Zero watches disdainfully, his wrists held in unlocked manacles. When I wake, Master’s face is only inches from my own, and I have a fleeting moment where I think his eyes are about to snap open and turn on me in hatred.

After the fourth nightmare, I get up quietly and pull on a pair of drawstring sleeping pants and a shirt before padding out of the room. I doubt that Zero sleeps through my exit, but he lets me go. I’m grateful. I’m not sure I can manage another moment.

I need to get my head on straight. I can’t be thinking like this. Master Zeke owns me. If he punishes me, justified or not, there’s nothing I can do.

I head to the kitchenette. I’m thinking maybe some tea will help calm me, maybe ease the pain in my head. If nothing else, I can get away from the his haunting face. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve had worse done to me than a paddling, and I never reacted like this. I've been disciplined with the chip before, and I would consider that exponentially more painful. Is it because I dared to hope? Because I’d thought that maybe, just once, I could be more than a pound of flesh, used and discarded at the most convenient point?

I heat the water in a traditional kettle on the stove because it takes longer. I stand and wait for it because the idea of sitting right now is repellent, although I’m pretty sure I could manage it. Being still in itself is difficult, and I get some cookies from the cabinet more for something to do than because I’m hungry. In the past, I’ve always been a nervous worker, but I don’t feel coordinated enough to bake or clean at the moment.

The kettle whistles and I take it off the stove. I pour the hot water through the tea leaves and then set aside the infuser. I stir in a heavy helping of sugar and just a touch of cream. I take a quick sip and turn away from the counter.

The tea cup goes tumbling to the floor, splashing my legs with hot liquid. I give a yelp of fear, stumbling backwards. Master is in the doorway and for a moment I can’t tell – Am I dreaming? Did I never wake from the nightmare? Has this whole evening just been a migraine-induced hallucination?

“Shit,” Master curses, coming toward me. I shrink back and he hesitates, stopping only inches from me with his hands outstretched.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Not a dream, then.

“I-I’m fine,” I respond, quickly kneeling down to pick up the shards of porcelain scattered on the floor. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” Master responds, kneeling down with a kitchen towel to mop up the mess. “I just noticed you were gone and wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Yes, I’m fine,” I tell him quickly. “I just needed a drink.”

“You’re a horrible liar, you know that?” he tells me as he puts the towel aside and I throw away the pieces of cup. I want to contradict him – I’m actually a very good liar – but I don’t think it would be prudent.

Instead, I ask, “Would you like a cup of tea, Master? There’s still enough water left.”

“Sure,” he responds. “Then we can talk about what’s making you so nervous.”

I set up two more tea cups. Master likes his sweetened without milk, and I place a mug in front of him before getting my own drink together. I settle hesitantly at my seat, perching gingerly on the edge of my chair.

“Still sore?” he asks, and I push down my irritation. Of course I’m still sore. You only did this to me hours ago.

“Just a little, Master,” I respond, trying to keep my voice light. I take a sip of tea and resist the urge to rub my forehead.

           “It’s okay to be mad at me,” Master says quietly. My anxiety picks up a notch. How does he know? “Zero never was,” Master continues, “but I think that’s because he was used to people hurting him. It never occurred to him that just because I can hurt him, doesn’t mean I should.”

           Master pauses, and I feel like I’m supposed to say something in this interim, so I say, “Yes, sir,” as quietly as possible. Master sighs, so I can’t imagine it’s what he wanted from me.

           “I hadn’t anticipated you having a different reaction from Zero, and I should have,” he admits. “I can’t say it would have changed anything, but at least I would have been able to better prepare you.”

           “I don’t… I don’t understand,” I admit it him.

           “I needed to test your pain tolerance tonight,” Master explains. “I needed to test that and I needed to make sure that you would tell me if I pushed you too far. I also wanted to prove to you that I wouldn’t break you, given the opportunity. I wanted to prove to you that I could take care of you.”

           He hesitates here, contemplating his tea, and I remain silent. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say anything, or what to speak to him about. After everything tonight, I prefer to remain silent.

           “I didn’t anticipate your resistance, Kip, and I’m sorry that you’re struggling with this. If it’s any consolation, I’m going to try to keep physical discipline away from you in the future. I realize now that you don’t have the temperament or the constitution for any kind of impact play.”

           “Are you getting rid of me?” I ask quietly. Now I’m the one contemplating the milky swirls in my tea cup.

           “Of course not,” Master responds immediately. “You didn’t fail. You’re simply not the same as Zero.”

           “Weaker,” I spit, clutching my mug in a white-knuckled grip. Master’s keeping me for now out of kindness, but it won’t last. It never does.

           “Not in all things,” Master says gently, pulling the cup from my grip. “Physically, yes. Your pain tolerance is nowhere near his. You do have other skills, though. And pain isn’t the only way you can show submission.”

           “I don’t understand,” I tell him. “Isn’t that what you want from me? Don’t you take pleasure from my… from my pain?”

           “I take pleasure from your submission,” he tells me. “Pain is only one way you can show that.”

           “How else?” I ask. Weariness is making me bold. “No more games. Just tell me what I’m to expect of my life now.” Endless toil and pain? At least I’ll be alive.

           “Stand,” he demands, and I feel my breath hitch. So much for being bold, I think as I get to my feet.

           My aches make themselves known again under the threat of impending pain. I feel awfully stupid for pushing this when I feel so weak to begin with, but it’s too late to back down.

           Master stands in front of me. He’s no less intimidating now, dressed in only red silk sleeping pants, his chest and arms exposed. He’s muscular. Far more than I am in my skinny frame and my wasted body.

           Master’s hands reach for me. I flinch, but manage not to pull back. His fingers find the tied string holding up my sleeping pants. He pulls the bow loose, pulls the cord until it comes completely free. My pants fall around my ankles and I step hesitantly out of them. Master undoes the button on my top, pushing it from my shoulders until it pools around my feet as well. In a matter of moments, I stand bare before him, the blue silken cord from my pants still draped around Master’s fingers.

           He pushes me until my back hits the marbled counter behind me. I gasp when he takes my hands in his own, looping the blue ribbon around my wrists. He forces my arms above my head and ties the ribbon over one of the knobs on the cupboards above me.

           “Can you get loose?” he asks. I pull hesitantly and feel the bindings start to slip.

           “Yes.”

           “Good,” he tells me. “I trust that you won’t.”

           “Yes, sir.” Is this a test of will? Is he going to strike me like this, and expect me to stay still? It seems almost crueler than the earlier punishment, because I doubt I will be able to hold myself in check.

           Master’s hands glide down my sides. His fingers find my hips and he moves into my space, pinning me between his hips and the counter behind me. One hand moves to my face, cupping my cheek. Before I fully understand what’s happening he’s kissing me. I whimper in fear, but his lips are soft against mine. A moment later, I find myself sagging against the counter. My eyes slip closed, and I lean into the kiss.

           How long has it been since someone kissed me this tenderly? Certainly never my previous owner. Perhaps not even the fleeting trysts I’ve had with other assets, short and perilous as they were. Maybe in my sexual training, when they first brought me to The Leash? But I can’t ever remember a kiss so sweet or so passionate. Perhaps I’ve never been kissed like this?

           Master’s hand is still holding my wrists above my head, reminding me that I’m pinned and helpless beneath him. His other hand moves to the small of my back and pulls me more firmly against him. He breaks our kiss, his lips moving lower to kiss and lick the line of my jaw. He settles for suckling at the juncture of my throat. I’m sure to have a bruise there tomorrow, but I realize that I want it. I want to be reminded in the morning that this wasn’t a fleeting dream. I want to remember that this happened.

           My eyes are still closed and I don’t bother to open them. Master moves to kiss at my collarbone. The hand that had been holding my wrists in place moves down to my throat and settles there. The weight of it is heavy, enough to threaten my airway without actually restricting it. I roll my head back, and his hand presses down just enough that I can feel it. I don’t care. Between my legs, I feel a surge of heat. My cock is already hard, bobbing and neglected. 

           I don’t understand. I should be terrified. Why am I… aroused?

           I glance down, and Master looks up and catches my eye.

           “You seem perplexed,” Master says, a gentle grin on his face. “Is it because of this?” he asks, rubbing his thigh against my erection.

Master loosens his hand and I say, “It’s so different this time.”

           “I wish this could have been the only time,” he tells me, his eyes showing a regret that I don’t understand. “You’ve set your fear aside. You’re trusting me. And I’m trying my best to make it worth your while.” Master rubs my cock with his thigh again, and I groan in pleasure, letting my head fall back again. Master chuckles and his fingers leave my throat completely. They travel downward, trailing my body, until they find my cock. When they circle it and pump slowly, I’m helpless not to cry out. My hips jerk involuntarily as I give a wanton moan.

           Master’s hand disappears, and when I turn my head I find that he’s freeing his cock from his own pants. When he steps forward again, he takes both our cocks in his hand, letting them slide against each other. Master’s flesh feels like molten silk against my own, so hot and smooth that I can barely contain myself. My hips thrust again into his hand. No one’s ever done this to me before.

           “Please!” I beg, not really sure what I’m begging for. “Master, please!”

           “Do you want to suck my cock?” he asks me, his voice deep and rich with lust.

           “Yes,” I tell him breathlessly. “Please, let me pleasure you with my mouth.”

           Master nods and pulls back. His fingers go to the ribbon holding my hands, but he doesn’t untie it. Instead, he pulls the loop over the knob and lets my arms fall down, still tied together.

           “I want to see you pleasure me only with your mouth,” he instructs. I’m already falling to my knees, and I nod eagerly. He leans against the counter now and lets me move between his legs. 

           His cock is larger than any I’ve had in my mouth before. It’s soft and warm, with a hint of saltiness that is probably from the precome dribbling from his tip. I lick the tip and hear his breath stutter. Eager to prove myself, I open my mouth wide and try to take the whole thing.

           At about three-fourth of the way, his length hits the back of my throat. His cock is too large for me, and I gag. My body jerks and hunches. Master notices, pulling back immediately. I feel like a failure already, but Master just says, “Take it slow,” and guides his cock back to my mouth.

           His hand stays on the base of his cock, and he guides it in and out of my mouth. I suckle him, lapping at the underside when he’s still and opening wide when he chooses to thrust. The feel of his cock on my tongue and the salty taste of his skin send a fire racing directly to my groin, and my own cock is hard as steel and dribbling down my length. I have to pull back, letting his cock fall from my mouth with a gasp.

           “Kiplan?” Master questions, concern darkening his features. I know how I must look, flushed and panting and completely overwhelmed.

           “Please!” I beg, and it comes out as a moan.

           “Please what, lovely?”

           “I-…” I hesitate, embarrassed, and gesture at my cock. He smiles.

           “Do you want to come?” I nod desperately. “You may play with yourself, but I won’t release your hands, and you’re not allowed to come until after I do.”

           I nod happily, my bound hands wrapping around my cock together as my mouth finds Master’s cock again. 

           Master is close. I can tell from his taste, from the way his breath hitches when his cock is all the way in my mouth. One hand is still holding his cock, and the other comes up to settle loosely on the back of my head.

           “I’m going to come in your mouth,” he warns me, his voice strained and close to the edge. “I want you to swallow it,” he says, like I needed the instruction.

           His thrusts speed up, his cock jerking in my mouth, and I let him guide me, let him control the thrusts. In only a moment, he’s pulling my head down. His cock goes to the back of my throat, but stops before making me gag. I feel his body tense and then the hot gush of come in my mouth. I swallow reflexively, lapping at his cock until I’m sure I’ve taken every drop.

           Master releases my head as his cock begins to soften. My hands are still wrapped around my own cock, stroking it slowly. I hadn’t wanted to disobey and come before Master, but now I’m desperate for my own release. My strokes quicken, but Master pulls my hands away. I feel the sharp sting of disappointment and the ache of lust between my legs. Then Master is pushing me onto my back, pushing my arms above my head again, and kneeling between my legs.

           My cock goes into his mouth and I scream, bucking my hips. Only a few, short strokes with his tongue and he wrings my orgasm from me. I scream again, bucking my hips, and come in his mouth. Master doesn’t even pull back, just sucks me deep and drains me dry.

           I can’t remember ever coming so hard in my life. For a moment, it feels like I’m going to pass out. When I regain my senses, my entire body is tingling with pleasure. Master is smiling down at me, his face relaxed and sated.

           “And that’s how you submit without pain,” he explains. I grin back at him, feeling like maybe I can manage this. Maybe I won’t be a burden, not this time.

           But the moment can’t last. I hear a noise and glance up, only to find Zero staring at us from the doorway. His face is unreadable, but his eyes are focused on where our forms are tangled. If that alone doesn’t tell him what we’d been doing, I’m sure the guilty look on my face does. Am I pushing Zero out of Master’s affections? I hadn’t thought… I hadn’t intended to do anything to jeopardize Zero’s place in the household. After my earlier failure I’d been so focused on my own problems that Zero had been pushed to the back of my mind. I hadn’t been thinking of him at all. 

           Now, with the cold, blank look in his eyes focused on me, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve sabotaged any possibility of getting Zero to like me. Could I have done anything different tonight? I don’t know, and I feel the biting ache behind my eyes that tells me I’m probably thinking too hard about it.

           Zero leaves without a word, not even returning when Master calls for him. Master pushes himself to his feet and steps toward the door to follow, but then pauses and turns back. He offers me a hand to help me off of the floor. 

           “You- You should go after him,” I tell him hesitantly, uncertain of his reaction. I give him my hand, and he pulls me to my feet. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I grab my sleeping top from the floor and put it on. My pants won’t stay up without the string, but my shirt comes down to mid-hip anyway. When I finish, I see that Mast has put his pants back on.

           “No,” Master says slowly, his eyes glancing to the door where Zero retreated. “He’s got to get used to this.”

           “But… Please, he’s…” Am I pushing too far, asking Master to make things right with Zero? I’d do it myself, but I doubt he wants to see me right now. “I can’t give him another reason to hate me!”

           “Zero doesn’t hate you,” Master responds evenly. Does he really believe that? Or is he just being kind?

           “It seems like it,” I mutter grumpily, putting my arms around myself. The sting of disappointment is strong.

           I’d really… I’d really like to be friends with Zero.

           “Zero’s just reserved,” Master defends, but it sounds half-hearted at best. So he’s noticed, too, that Zero hasn’t taken to me. I wonder if he’s as disappointed as I am. “He doesn’t know how to be friendly.”

           “He doesn’t like me!” I whine, suddenly feeling tired. The pain in my head flares again. Is it the stress from knowing Zero is probably mad at me? Or is it just the overwhelming amount of things that have happened to me tonight? “He doesn’t want anything to do with me!”

           “Give him time,” Master says, running his fingers along my cheek. “He’ll come around.” Master frowns and leans in closer, turning my face so he can look me in the eyes. “Do you have a headache?” he asks me. “I can see that look in your eyes that you always get when you’re in pain.”

           “A little one, sir,” I tell him. I’m too tired to deny it. 

           “It’s probably from everything that’s happened today,” he explains, and I’m so grateful that he’s given me an easy excuse. “Come on, we’ll get you something for it,” he offers, taking my hand and leading me out the door.

           The med-bay is on the other side of the ship, down near the docking bay in case of a an emergency docking. It’s the first time I’ve been down here, and even though it seems like a nice space it makes me nervous. Places like this so frequently haunted my nightmares while I was waiting for death in the Oasis that I’m not sure I’ll ever be totally comfortable with them.

           Master opens a cabinet just inside the door as I stand awkwardly, uncomfortable with the idea of sitting on any of the chairs, despite how tired I am. I’d rather not spend a second longer down here than I need to. The cabinet opens to reveal several shelves of medicines, including bottles of low-dose painkillers all the way up to the pain-patches that I’d used when I was first here.

           Master pulls out a bottle of pills and closes the cabinet, not bothering to engage the locking mechanism. I’m tempted to ask for a patch instead, but I don’t want to admit how strong this headache is. I’m afraid questions about this headache might prompt him to ask questions about how often I’ve been having them. A lie by omission is still easier than an outright falsehood.

           “Feel free to come down here and take something if you need it,” Master tells me, putting two small pills in my palm and watching as I swallow them dry. “I always keep this area stocked with pain medication.”

           “Thank you, Master,” I respond honestly. Having access to some pain medication will make hiding the frequency of my headaches much easier, but I’ll have to be careful of how much I use. I can’t have Master noticing how much is gone.

           “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he says, putting the bottle aside on the counter, not even returning the bottle to the cabinet.

           “And Zero?” I question, hoping that he’s returned to the bedroom but doubting it. Zero tends to hide in the gym, which is basically his domain.

           “I think…” Master hesitates, unusually uncertain. “I think Zero could probably use some time to himself.” Master starts toward the door, changing the subject as I follow behind him. “I know today was hard for you, but I’m proud of you. You were honest with me, and you really opened up to me. I want to start to build trust together. So ask questions if you’re confused, and tell me if you’re afraid. I won’t get angry. We’ll work it out, okay?”

           I don’t say anything, but Master doesn’t push me. How can I tell him how honest I haven’t been being? How can I be honest when I think that the truth would get me sold, or worse? And with how things stand between me and Zero… I don’t dare speak to Master about that, about Zero’s constant refusal to help me and his aggressive attitude. I’ve given him enough trouble, enough reasons to hate me.

           We get to the bedroom, and I’m too tired to do anything but slide into bed next to Master. The bed feels too wide without Zero, but I don’t dare suggest to Master that he should go find him. It’s not my place, and I’ve been pushing my limits too much today. I do miss Zero, though. I feel bad for being part of the reason he’s absent.

           “I want you to sleep in tomorrow,” Master tells me sleepily. “Don’t worry about making breakfast, Zero and I will fend for ourselves. You still look so tired all the time,” he tells me, his eyes already drooping with sleep as he curls around me. “I don’t want you getting migraines again.”

           He’s already sleeping only moments after his voice fades. It’s not fair, that he can sleep so quietly while I toss and turn restlessly. It takes several minutes for the drugs to get into my system, for me to start feeling heavy and tired. In those moments, his words replay through my head, chasing away the success I felt at submitting to him and fanning the flames of guilt from Zero’s reaction. More than that, though, I feel bad for misleading my owner, even if it is probably the only reason I’m still here.

           Master doesn’t want my migraines to return, but…

           …what makes him think they ever stopped?


	15. Conversations with Mari - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the calm before the storm. Next week, shit will hit the fan! Be ready!
> 
> I couldn't do this without my support team. IntrepidEm, Marner, and Ygrainne are all awesome for helping me out with this!
> 
> Please don't forget to leave comments or kudos if you like/didn't like/are indifferent to my fic. Just let me know you're out there. Thanks for reading!

           “So, your soldier is submissive and your maid is dominant? Is that what you’re telling me?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, but only because Mari is on a live feed and she can see my expression. Safe to say, I wish I’d never even broached the topic with her.

Despite seeing her only a few days ago, I pinged Mari this morning for a conversation. My mind is all twisted and confused. After attempting a scene with Kip and Zero, and then later attempting to make Kip understand the difference between violence and submission, my mind is swirling. I’m not really sure how to proceed with Kip.

However, if I was hoping Mari would be able to straighten me out, then I’d be sorely disappointed. Still, I can’t help but take advantage of one of the few remaining chances to unburden myself. When I head to my next event, it will be too dangerous to talk about my mission. Within the next few weeks, I hope to make my debut with Zero and Kip as pleasure slaves at a club called the Line. When I start getting deeper into my role as an Owner, it be too dangerous to contact Mari unless absolutely necessary. Mari will have to function solely as my liaison to my company and as my personal secretary, and I’ll have no opportunities to speak with anyone outside of my persona as an Owner.

“It’s not that simple,” I explain patiently. “It could just be that Kiplan hasn’t learned to trust me yet, or that something in his past is keeping him from being vulnerable around me. Or it could be that Kip just naturally wants to take charge. He likes making sure everyone is okay, which is not a trait that I want to train out of him. Unfortunately, he needs to trust me to take care of everyone while he sits back and takes direction, and I don’t think we’re quite there yet.”

I’ve explained to Mari that Kiplan had trouble with submitting to pain-play with me, and that his personality seems to be less submissive than Zero’s. I haven’t detailed what happened later that night, with Kiplan’s and my interactions in the kitchen. I’m not really sure how to explain them myself. I hadn’t followed him with any intentions other than making sure he was okay.

What happened afterwards… I can’t say I regret it, but I’m also worried about its implications. Kip seems nervous again, and while it could be the sexual training I have planned for later this week, I feel like I also might have thrown too much at Kip yesterday. I’m worried I might be pushing him too fast, but I’m also afraid that if I slow down I won’t have enough time to properly train Kiplan. I  _ cannot _ have him ill-prepared when I show him to other owners. It would be disastrous.

Zero is another issue that I’m facing right now. He didn’t come back to bed last night, and it worries me although Zero, in general, runs on significantly less sleep than the rest of us. I saw him the next morning when he came for breakfast, which I cooked while Kiplan slept in. Zero seemed cold and distant, and I hadn’t wanted to push him into talking. I’d asked if he was alright, and he’d nodded in response. So I let it go, gave him a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, and told him to eat breakfast. He’d taken his plate and left the kitchen, so I can’t say he reacted well. The same cold, aloof attitude continued even until today, although he did at least come to bed last night. Still, I don’t really know what to do about Zero.

“Pain isn’t going to do anything for Kiplan,” I continue, trying to get my brain to focus on the conversation at hand. “He can’t stand seeing another person suffering, and he’s terrified of how easily broken his own body is. He might make a decent dominant, if I could show him that pain doesn’t always have to be a punishment, but I doubt he’ll ever be truly comfortable with impact play.”

“You can’t have him being dominant anyway. It defeats the purpose of having a slave.”

“I can’t have him being dominant to me,” I correct. “There’s nothing to say that I couldn’t have him dominate Zero at some point.” It’s something I’ve contemplated, now that I’m getting to know Kiplan’s disposition better. Could it be a way to get Kip and Zero to interact? But it could also be the wedge the pushes Zero from apathetic tolerance to outright dislike. If he hasn’t already gone over.

“Why would you do that?” Mari asks. I sigh and rub my temples. She’s being deliberately inquisitive, trying to get me to lay out a plan, when the truth is that I don’t fully have one yet. Kiplan and Zero are still settling around each other, and I can’t guess how to manage them until I see them relax and behave honestly.

“Kiplan has no possibility of dominating Zero unless Zero lets him. Kiplan is frail and Zero is practically a super-soldier. If Kiplan is dominating Zero, other owners will assume it’s because of my rigid control over Zero, that Zero doesn’t dare disobey me by fighting against Kiplan.”

“Isn’t that what will actually happen?”

“It… could,” I hedge. Zero would probably submit unwillingly if I ordered him to, but it would be a gross violation of the trust he’s put in me. “I’d much rather get them comfortable with each other and then introduce dominance and submission between them gradually. Zero naturally takes orders well, but he’s…” I hesitate, not really sure how to describe Zero’s attitude toward Kiplan. Apathetic with a touch of resentment? It’s a far cry from what I’d been hoping for when I first found them talking. “Zero doesn’t like Kiplan very much at the moment. I’m not really sure how to fix that.”

“Can’t you just order him to stop?” 

I wonder, is she being deliberately obtuse?

“You can’t order someone to change their personality, their likes and dislikes. You can order them to hide it, but it’s not the same. I don’t want Zero covering what he’s feeling. I’d prefer to change it, but I’ll keep them separate if I have to. I don’t even know if having assets interact with each other will be tolerated. This society that I’m coming into will have rules and customs of its own that I’ll need to adjust to.”

“And will this be a good place to learn those rules?”

“Honestly, I don’t really know. It’s an invitation-only event, so it’s probably better than the Oasis to start socializing. James Peterson owns an exclusive bar called The Line. Once a month, it shuts down for an invite-only event. Staff are put on leave for the weekend, so I assume that Peterson’s assets work the bar. I don’t know exactly what will happen at the event, but normally the bar runs as a strip club slash BDSM showroom. I have some familiarity with that type of establishment, so I won’t feel completely out of place. If it’s anything like the places I’ve been before, it will have tables for spectators and stages for performers. I’ll get a feel for the room first, then decide if I feel comfortable putting one of my assets on stage.”

“And which asset will that be?”

“That depends a bit on the room. If it leans toward sadomasochism, I’ll have to take Zero up. Kiplan won’t be ready. If it’s more of a strip-show, I’m hoping Kip will be able to handle it, since he’s got a more classical look than Zero. And if it’s a straight sex-show, I’ll need to work with them a bit more to decide which one will be better suited for it. I’ve got two weeks left to train them, so that should be enough time to get one of them ready for a sex-show.” I’ve certainly had enough experience on either side of them to be confident teaching it. “I’m hoping it will be Kip, since he’s got more sexual experience, but I need to make sure he’s comfortable having sex with me first.”

“And if someone else wants to have sex with your assets?”

“I’ll avoid that as much as possible. It might happen at some point in the future, but neither of them are ready for it yet. I’m trying to avoid doing any serious psychological damage as much as possible.”

“I think they’re probably psychologically prepared for this situation,” Mari disagrees. “I mean, both of them have been in this society for years. I think they understand what to expect. They knew when you put them as pleasure assets that you would probably share them with others.”

“That might be true,” I acknowledge, “but knowing it and experiencing it are two different things, and neither one is ready.” Is it the kind of thing I can even prepare them for? I wonder silently.

“I just think you might be underestimating these boys,” Mari argues.

“And I think that you’re not putting enough emphasis on their well-being,” I respond in kind.

“Well-being?” she says disdainfully. “Zeke, these men are in a warzone. There’s no fixing them right now. You can’t even start to help them until you get them out of there and shut this thing down.”

I hate to admit that she might have a point, that all my efforts to guide them might be reinforcing the idea that they need someone to subjugate them to make them happy. So I respond with, “Rescue is a long way off, Mari. I can’t have them cracking before then.”

“Agreed,” Mari says. There’s genuine concern in her eyes. Is it bitter to wonder if her worry is for me or for the mission? Mari and I have worked together for a long time. I would hazard to say that we’re friends – or at least, I would have before this mission started. Have I changed so much that she really thinks she can’t trust my judgement anymore? Just by being in contact with these two men, does she think I’ve lost all sense of the mission?

Have I?

I’m not really in the mood for a conversation after that, so I make an excuse about checking on Kiplan and leave quickly. I was hoping this conversation would make me feel more in control, but my head is practically spinning. If anything, I feel like everything is careening toward a crash. I need to get Kip and Zero under control. I need to get everything under control. 

Checking on Kiplan turns out to be more difficult than I expected. I use the ship’s monitors to locate him on the third floor, but by the time I get there he’s already changed rooms. I could check again, but I’m in no hurry, so I wander the halls.

In truth, there’s an entire level that I’ve only taken a cursory glance at. I’ve spent most of my time on the bottom floor, which contains most of the living areas including the bedroom we’ve been sleeping in, the kitchenette, the den, the docking bay, the med-bay, my office, and the cockpit. It’s a bit of an all-purpose area, with easy access to the cockpit and the docking bay. I haven’t really needed to travel to the other floors very often. The second floor holds the library, the vegetable garden, the playroom, and the exercise areas. It’s more of a utility floor, I suppose. I’ve had occasional reasons to go there, but I mostly occupy the bottom floor.

I’m not really sure how to describe the top floor, which I’ve only visited once when I first came aboard the ship. Decadent is the first word that comes to mind, followed closely by excessive. Unnecessarily lavish might also be a good description. There are four bedrooms, as well as a few empty, all-purpose rooms and a large recreational room. It also has a formal dining room, a professional kitchen, and the terrace where I hosted Petir when he visited. I assume, should I actually entertain any other owners from The Leash, I’ll probably house and keep them on this floor. The décor is certainly rich enough, with lush carpets, heavy draperies, authentic wood paneling and genuine marble floors. It’s rustic and realistic enough to be taken out of any historical mansion on Earth, which I assume is the intention. That the historically accurate imitation is the cover that hides a state-of-the-art interstellar travel vehicle is simply the dichotomy of our times, I suppose.

There are four doors in the first hall, all spaced a good distance apart. The first door on the left is ajar, so I enter into an open sitting room with a small but opulent kitchen area. It looks more like a loft apartment than a room on a ship, but then I suppose that’s the point. There’s only one door inside the guest quarters, and I find a lavish bedroom on the other side. The bed is certainly large enough for five or six adults. The room is painted in a sedate beige color, highlighted by rich golden trim. The bed is made of mahogany wood, with crimson sheets. The carpets are also in the deep crimson, giving the room a more masculine feel. There’s a large bath surrounded by golden draperies on the other side of the room, along with a door that I presume leads to the toilet. Overall, it seems like the kind of room more suited to a five-star hotel than a ship.

I find Kip remaking the bed, a pile of unused linens on the floor beside him. I quirk an eyebrow and ask, “What are you doing?”

Kip jumps, his startled eyes leaping to my face. I can’t tell, is he nervous because I surprised him? Or is he still afraid of me after our previous scene? He’s had a  half day to recover, during which I tried to give him some space to ground himself. Still, I don’t know if time is really what he needs.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he says, bowing his head and clasping his hands submissively. I’ve seen him use that move before, and as familiar as it is I still can’t get used to it. Can’t get used to the way it seems trained into him. Like a doll, going through the motions. “I was just changing the linens.”

“Why?” I wonder. “They haven’t been used. They’re not dirty.”

He gives me a polite smile and says, “If they aren’t freshened every week, they lose their pleasant scent and their soft feel. If you’re to have guests unannounced, their rooms won’t be up to standards, sir.”

“Where am I going to find guests all the way out here?” I ask, exasperated, then push my annoyance down. “That’s a lot of extra effort for an assumption.”

“I apologize, sir,” he says quickly, giving another bow. “It’s how I was trained with my last owner.”

“I see,” I tell him softly, thinking it over. “How much work…” I start, but that’s not the question I’m trying to ask. I know he has picked up a lot of work with cooking and laundry. He has Zero to split the chores with, but it still seems like a lot. Instead, I ask, “Do you do all of these rooms?”

“Yes, sir,” he responds, his hands still moving, still professionally sorting out the bedding, recovering the pillows, straightening the sheets, “but I have it on a rotation.”

“All this, plus cooking all the meals? I know Zero helps out, but…” I hesitate. “Kip, I think you might be pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m alright, sir,” he tells me, but it’s not terribly convincing. I can’t help a sigh.

“Stop… this,” I tell him, gesturing at the clean linens on the floor. He’s already finished putting clean ones on the bed. “I’ll let you know when I plan to have someone aboard, and I’ll give you time to get ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

I sigh again and sit down on the bed, wrinkling Kiplan’s carefully pressed linens. I gesture for him to sit as well, and he crawls onto the bed beside me. He’s dressed in new clothes, a pair of black cotton slacks and a white, long-sleeve button down shirt.

“Are you okay?” I ask him softly. “About what happened yesterday? And the evening after?”

“Of course, sir,” he replies quickly.

“Kip,” I chide. “Don’t be like that. Come here.”

He comes into my arms willingly, but he’s still tense. I give him several moments to calm himself, but his body remains stiff against me.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” I tell him softly. “I don’t want you traumatized by what happened. Please, talk to me.”

He hesitates long enough that I’m not sure he’ll respond, but finally he sighs and sags against me. I run my fingers through his blonde locks, hoping to calm him and draw him out.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he responds, his voice quiet and contemplative. “I’m not afraid of you, not really. I’m just… having a hard time processing how I feel. It’s like… Like I don’t understand why I’m not afraid of you. Everything’s so confusing. I wish there were someone I could talk to. Someone on my level, who might understand.”

“You mean Zero?” I ask, but he gets a miserable look on his face and buries it in my shoulder again. “I’m sorry, I forgot. I suppose he’s still angry?”

“He won’t talk to me,” Kip replies, his voice flat, “but who knows if that’s because he’s mad or because he still doesn’t like me.”

“I’ll talk to him,” I promise, but I think we both know it won’t do much good. “Can you talk to me in the meantime?”

He shakes his head miserably, and I don’t argue. There are some things that the power-dynamic between us just can’t overcome, and I fear that this is one of them. We sit quietly for several more minutes, but finally I feel him getting restless and shifting against me. I let him pull away.

“Can I see your back?” I ask him gently. He gets nervous again – I can see the tension pour back into him – but he nods and unbuttons his shirt.

With his shirt gone, Kip goes to his stomach on the bed, revealing a wide expanse of creamy skin to me. I run my fingers along the crease of his spine, down to the edge of his cloth pants. The skin I want to see hides beneath, so I tug the fabric down until Kip slips out of them. I can still remember how red that skin was yesterday, how hot and angry at my treatment. Kip’s mental state hadn’t been much better, confused and scared, but still with a core of justified anger. He didn’t like that I’d decided to strike him, even less when I went after Zero. The fact that I did not harm him, that I had actually given him little more than a firm spanking, didn’t do very much to alleviate my guilt in his eyes.

I can remember, too, how softly he’d yielded to me later that night. How smooth his skin was, how hungrily he kissed me. Submission doesn’t come naturally to him, but in that moment he’d wanted nothing more than to give up control, to give up the fighting and the fear. He’d trusted me, and the effort it took him to hand over that power simply made it that much sweeter.

The flesh in front of me now is pale again, with only a few stray, purple bruises to attest to my treatment the night before. The bruises are unavoidable but still ring as an admission of failure. I had hoped to leave no lingering marks on him, knowing that his skin is not nearly as tough as Zero’s, but there’s no real way to prevent some bruising when dealing with multiple hits in the same area. Kip has a dark bruise on top of his ass on the right side, where my swing would have landed hardest since I’m right-handed. He’s got another on the left side at the top of his thigh, where my strikes had overlaid too many times. There are a few other bruises dotting his thighs, scattered across his skin and none bigger than a quarter. Despite the fact that each bruise is a failure, they are few and small enough that I can view them as a necessary evil.

“Have you seen what you want?” Kip asks, then shivers as I drag my fingers down his leg.

“Any pain? Residual soreness?”

“A little sore,” he admits, which is to be expected, “but… it’s not as bad as I thought.”

“I didn’t want any long term damage.”

“I know,” he says easily. “I saw how skilled you were when you… when you hit Zero. I saw all the other things you could use on me. I know you were…” he hesitates, then huffs a laugh and turns his face away from me. “I suppose it would be stupid to say ‘gentle’ given how much it hurt. But, I guess that’s what it is.”

“I would never truly harm you,” I tell him earnestly. He turns his face back to me, meets my gaze unhesitantly for the first time.

“I know,” he says, his voice more sure than I’ve heard him all day. “I believe you.”


	16. Painful Revelations - Kip POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beginning of things coming undone for poor Kip, but maybe it's for the best. We'll get the repercussions next week. Hopefully you can hold out! Thanks for reading!
> 
> As always, I couldn't do this without my support team. IntrepidEm and Ygrainne have really been picking up my slack this week so they deserve all the thanks for how clean these chapters have been. I can't give them enough credit for helping m out. 
> 
> Please don't forget to leave comments or kudos if you like/didn't like/are indifferent to my fic. Just let me know you're out there. It gets lonely on this side of the laptop. :)

              “Master, can I ask you a question?”

              “Yes, Kip?” Master replies, giving me his full attention. We’re still on the bed, with me naked and lying face down.  His body is still pressed against my side, his fingers running lightly over my back. I’m not sure how I feel about him. One part of me is still terrified by what I experienced in the playroom. Another part of me believes, firmly, that Master won’t use that power to harm me. The rest of it, though… That’s more complicated. “Is something wrong?”

              I’m not sure now is the right time to ask this. I certainly hadn’t imagined posing this question while naked and in bed. Still, it’s important to my duties to know how Master wants his ship set up. Maybe he has a plan for it that I’m not aware of, and I wouldn’t want to make a mistake just because I haven’t been informed. Questioning Master seems a bit out of line, especially given how strange things have been between us recently. Still, I’d rather risk seeming nosey than actually making a mistake.

              “I need to know why you’re not using the Master’s Chambers.”

              There. I’ve said it.

              “I don’t understand,” he responds, his face puzzled but curious. It breaks a bit of the tender mood that he’s set, and I sit up to answer his quizzical look.

              “The Master Chamber?” I prompt. “Just down the hall?” He still looks perplexed. “Master, you do know you’re sleeping in the Captain’s room, right? That… That the whole first floor is part of the servant’s quarters?”

              He looks stunned for a moment, just long enough to confirm that he wasn’t aware of that, before covering it with an easy smile.

              “Of course,” he says, and I do enough lying of my own to spot one that blatant. “It was just closer to the cockpit while Zero was getting used to the controls.” Even I’m not buying that Zero needed time to familiarize himself with piloting. “Did you… Do you think it’s time to move rooms?” He’s clearly off-balance, and I have to suppress a smile. Good. It’s about time that I’m not the only one caught by surprise. But it’s odd, too. Most owners naturally gravitate toward the largest, most extravagant room. Then again, I know for a fact that Master Zeke is not like most other owners.

              “Yes, sir,” I tell him respectfully. “It might be prudent time to switch. You might want to familiarize yourself with the new surroundings before you start to interact with other owners. If any other owners accompany you to your ship, they might find it strange for you to be housed in the servant’s quarters. Would you like me to move your things to more appropriate accommodations?”

              “Yes, do that. Will there be enough room for you and Zero’s things as well?”

              I resist rolling my eyes. Has he even been up here? Does he realize how huge it is?

              “There should be plenty of room.”

              “Good. Could you have things moved there today? I’d like to get comfortable in it as soon as possible. Have Zero help you move everything.”

              Fat chance, I want to say, but instead I smile and nod. Should I even bother to ask Zero? Probably not. He’s already mad at me, but I really could use the help…

              The thing is, I’m exhausted. Yesterday I slept in and nursed my bruised body, but as a result all my work simply got pushed to today. So I got up extra early this morning and started on the cleaning and the laundry, which gave me a migraine that no amount of pills has been able to touch. I know Master Zeke said I can take what I need from the medbay, but I don’t think he meant using the patches to relieve the migraines that I’m hiding from him. It’s getting bad enough that I might have to chance it, though, or risk being discovered.

              What makes me feel worse, though, is how flippantly Master told me to stop all this extra cleaning, like there was any way for me to know not to do it. Like I have any way of knowing what he wants from me. If he’d actually laid out specific chores for me, then I wouldn’t have had to do all that extra work. Instead, he told me that Zero and I “needed to keep the ship clean, but don’t overdo it.” I don’t even know what that means! Not to mention the fact that Zero seems to think his portion of the chores only include navigation and maintaining the gym.  And Master probably doesn’t realize how much other work goes into cleaning and upkeep. Does he really think this ship maintains itself?

              To rein in my temper, I have to remind myself that Master still thinks Zero is sharing half my workload. I’m the one that continues to keep that falsehood going. But Zero already hates me, and I can’t imagine I’ll have any hope of befriending him if I rat him out to Master Zeke. Honestly, I’m not sure I could live with myself if Zero got punished because I told on him. I just… I don’t think I could stand to see him hurt because of me.

              Master releases me back to my work soon after. I almost wish I could ask him for more time, if only to let myself rest for a moment longer. But there’s no point in putting my work off, it still needs to be done. Even if Master doesn’t realize how endless and important it is, I know that it will only keep piling up is not done regularly. So I gather up the laundry from the floor and toss it down one of the chutes in the hall, then head to the gym to find Zero.

              Maybe this time will be different.

              Zero is in the arena, clad in his new, skin-tight pants and shirt. The pants come down to his calves, leaving his ankles exposed but protecting the delicate skin of his knees with built-in padding. His shirt, similarly, comes down to his forearm and is reinforced at the elbow. He’s also wearing protective finger-less gloves and sneakers. All the protective gear comes in handy as he ducks and dodges, trying to avoid a small aerial projectile that chases him around the room.

              I don’t want to interrupt his workout routine, so I wait patiently until Zero gets to the end of the course. Zero is, I think, practicing his dodging reflexes. There’s a silver disk floating behind him, and he’s in a narrow stretch of the room set up like an obstacle course. There are two white lines marking the edges of the course, which the silver disk does not fly outside of. As Zero runs the length of the course, jumping over and diving under different exercise equipment set up in his way, the silver disk tries repeatedly to knock into him. Zero is faster, though, and it generally bounces off of the floor, the equipment, or the invisible walls at the side. When Zero reaches the end of the course unscathed, the silver disk drops to the floor. Zero steps out of the exercise are. He removes his gloves and sets the disk aside, then gets a drink from his water bottle.

              Well, it’s now or nothing, I suppose.

              I approach slowly, even though I’m sure he’s aware of my presence. I can see the perspiration on his skin, although he isn’t panting the way I would be after that kind of exertion. I stop a polite distance away from him and wait for him to acknowledge me. After several minutes, I realize that I’m waiting in vain. I clear my throat, but still get no reaction.

              “Zero,” I call, “Master wants you to help me move our things up to the master’s chambers.”

              He ignores me, not even darting a glance in my direction.

              “Zero,” I try again, softening my tone. “I could really use your help. Please?”

              Still nothing. I frown, aggravated by his dismissal.

              “I can’t do this on my own!” I argue. “I need…”

              And then he’s in my face, his dark, gray eyes pinned to my own, his expression threateningly blank with just a hint of a frown. His body is covered in a light sheen of sweat, his hands held loosely at his sides.

              “Leave,” he tells me in a low but firm voice. “Now.”

              I stumble backwards, my heart beating too fast in my chest. I’ve got no chance in a physical altercation against Zero, and although he hasn’t actually threatened me, I’m definitely afraid. I turn and all but run from the room. I don’t stop until I’m in the hallway and the door slides shut behind me. I lean against the wall and bite back a sob, but it’s honestly my own fault. I should have known better. Zero hates me. What did I really expect to happen?

              I head down to the kitchen. The morning is almost over, and lunch was the next thing on my list anyway. I hurry to get food assembled before I start moving Master’s personal items up to the new bedroom. Lunch is usually the light meal, so I make salads with grilled chicken and grilled peaches, topped with goat cheese and a honey vinaigrette. I leave Zero a side of cottage cheese and two hard-cooked eggs, knowing he needs the extra protein. I make a pitcher of raspberry tea and leave it in the fridge, and set out a bowl of fruit salad, since Master sometimes likes fresh fruit with his lunch.

              It’s normal for us not to eat lunch together, since we all have different things that we’re doing. I leave Master and Zero’s lunches in the refrigerator for them to find at their leisure. Then, mentally cataloging all I have to do, I quickly scarf down a couple pieces of grilled chicken and a raw peach, wrap up the leftovers, and head up to the main kitchen on the third floor to put the leftovers away.

              The only silver lining to moving Master that I can see is that I won’t need to use the kitchenette on the servant’s floor any more. It’s been a pain, fetching ingredients from the pantry or the industrial freezer on the third floor and trekking them back and forth between the two areas. There’s an elevator in the docking bay that goes to all three floor, which makes it easy to get supplies up to the main kitchen, but it wasn’t designed for this. Usually, most of the food would be made and served out of the full-sized, professional kitchen. The kitchenette in the servant’s quarters is really just for snacks and maybe some leftovers to be available to the crew. I run the ingredients for dinner down to the kitchenette, glad that this will probably be the last time I need to work in there, but also a bit disappointed. I’ve come to enjoy the homey feel and the closeness of that area.

              I use the elevator to take Master Zeke’s clothes from the captain’s quarters up to the master’s quarters. We have some boxes in the cargo bay, but I’m not strong enough to carry more than one at a time, so I have to pack them and walk them to the elevator and then come back for more. It takes a long time. Master has a lot of clothes, plus I just put my and Zero’s new clothes away, so I have to get them back out again.

              It takes a long time and a lot of trips. Packing and transferring takes half the time, but then I also have to clean the captain’s quarters so they’re ready if they’re needed and put things away in the master’s suite as I bring them in. I can’t let Master Zeke see the room with boxes stacked everywhere, so I diligently unpack all of his things. Thankfully, I managed to clean this room earlier this morning before Master found me, so it already has fresh linens and clean air filters.

              The master’s quarters are a suite of rooms on the top floor, down a separate hallway from the guest rooms. Unlike the guest rooms, it doesn’t have its own kitchen because it’s assumed that an asset will have food ready any time the Master wants to eat. It does, however, have a room specifically for the Master’s clothing and another that serves as an office. (Thankfully, the only thing Master uses in his office is his tablet, so I don’t need to move anything for that room.) The bathroom is large, with a six-person shower and a whirlpool bath built into the floor, along with two massage tables and a sauna room. There’s a den area with several leather couches and a full bar, which is a nice place for a master to entertain privately while other guests are in the main area.

              The bedroom itself, however, is by far the largest room, with its own set of couches and entertainment system. There’s a set of glass doors that open to overlook the Terrace, giving the master bedroom the only real view in the ship. The glass works like a one way mirror, showing the same sky scene that’s on the walls of the Terrace, so that no one can see into the master bedroom. When the doors are closed, they’re indiscernible from the walls in the Terrace on that side. The Master, however, can see anything that’s happening in the Terrace gardens. When they’re open, they allow the scent of the flowers to blow into the room and the sound of the Terrace fountains.

              The bed in the master bedroom is circular and a bit of a monstrosity, obviously designed to be roomy enough for an orgy. The thick mattress is large enough to easily support a dozen people. It’s very possible that it will, sometime in the future.

              By the time I finish packing and moving, it’s nearly an hour after I wanted to start dinner. I’m sweaty and clammy, and there’s a ringing sound in my ears that is slowly increasing in volume. My eyes are having trouble focusing, and I’ve already been down to the med-bay three times for headache pills, but they don’t seem to be having an effect. The pain in my head makes me want to curl up in a ball in the corner.

              But dinner is already late, so I soldier on.

              The light is absolutely blinding in the kitchenette. I struggle with nausea as I start to pull out the ingredients I brought down earlier. I get the pork chops started, but the scent of cooking meat makes me gag, and I have to turn the heat off and set them aside before taking the garbage can into the hall and retching until I feel turned inside out. Every time I try to go back into the kitchen, the scent and the light get to me and I have to run back into the hall with my garbage can. By the third attempt, I’m shaking and feeling light-headed.

              Panic starts to set in.

              The pork chops need to be seared and put in the oven soon – like, now – if they’re going to be done in time. I still need to start the stuffing and… Shit! I didn’t remember to set out the breadcrumbs this morning! I can’t- I’ll need to quick-bake them to get them ready. And the broccoli needs to be cut into pieces and blanched and… I can’t remember. Did I pick the broccoli from the garden this morning? Or do I still need to cut it and bring it down?

              I feel nauseous again for an entirely different reason. I didn’t do very well at submitting to Master. I’m not very experienced as a pleasure asset, I don’t think Master will be happy when he finds out. Master didn’t seem to care this morning about how much of the domestic work I’ve been doing. If he finds out that my headaches have come back, if I can’t manage to cook and he stops being pleased with the one task that he’s complimented me on, will he hesitate to sell me? Can I… Can I take that risk?

              I turn without fully formulating a thought and head back to the medbay. I’ve already taken three times the allowed dosage of pills for the day, and it’s doing nothing for my headache while probably adding to my nausea. I can’t risk Master finding out about my headaches. I enter the medical room and pull the door shut behind me, checking the hall twice to make sure it’s empty behind me.

              Walking to the cabinet is surreal. It’s dark, as I’m too afraid of attracting notice to turn the lights on. I have the overwhelming, paranoid fear that the cabinet will be locked, even though I know Master Zeke didn’t lock it the last time he was in it. The doors slide open easily at my touch, and the boxes of medical patches are still sitting innocuously on the shelf. I take the box down, my fingers shaking as I open it, and pull out one of the medical patches. I open the package carefully, just at the end, and slip out the medicated piece of fabric. I go to my knees, glancing fearfully at the door again, before putting the rough fabric against my neck. I hiss as the bristles bite into my skin, but the pain fades quickly.

              I don’t know how long I sit there, kneeling on the floor in the dark. After what feels like a long time, the pain starts to abate. After a few more minutes, it fades to an almost-bearable level. And finally, it fades until it’s only a niggling pain in the back of my head.

              I pull the patch off and reaffix the paper to the sticky part. I slide it back into its packaging and put it back into the box. Then I stick the box back into the cabinet and close the cabinet. Finally, I get to my feet and stumble out of the medbay.

              Everything starts to happen in a blur. Dinner gets made even though I have to make some substitutions. The pork chops get cut into thin-sliced pork-steaks and grilled. The broccoli turns into a broccoli salad with dried cranberries and sunflower seeds. The stuffing gets scratched entirely and replaced with potatoes fried in olive oil and rosemary. Dessert, which I hadn’t thought of at all, becomes a homemade chocolate ice cream that can cool while we eat, served with a piece of chocolate brownie that I made yesterday.

              The next thing I know, I’m sitting at the table with Master and Zero, nibbling at my food as my stomach rebels and trying not to tilt dizzily in my chair. The drugs are coursing through my system, but if Master notices then he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he just thinks I’m tired.

              “How was the move?” Master asks. It’s the first question that has caught my attention, but I’m not sure it’s the first question he asked. Has he been talking to Zero? I can’t seem to keep track. “Did you two get everything moved alright?”

              “Yes,” I respond quickly. “It went fine. Everything was fine.”

              Zero nods, like he has any idea how hard it was to get everything up the third floor, since he didn’t help at all! But I can’t call him out in front of Master and risk getting him disciplined, so I clench my jaw and say nothing. There’s a stronger stab of pain in my head from the anger. I know I didn’t keep the patch on long enough, but it was all I could risk without getting too out of it. Unfortunately, the pain in my head is starting to return, and my aggravation isn’t helping.

              “Good, that’s good,” Master says obliviously. He stretches, and I notice that his plate is cleared, as is most of Zero’s. It’s only mine that’s still mostly full, my dessert untouched and likely to remain so. “I’ll leave you to clean up, then. Zero, please get the dishes for Kip, since he was nice enough to make such a delicious meal for us. Then you can both have some time to relax.”

              Master leaves, then, probably headed back to his office once again. We might see him again later in the evening, but it’s not unheard of for him to stay in there until late into the night.

              Is it too much to ask that Zero show a little gratitude to me? That he appreciates, even a little, how much effort it was to do all of that work by myself? That I lied to Master to cover for him, risking getting myself in trouble in the process?

              I get up and start emptying my plate into the trash, hoping that Zero might at least acknowledge me, that he might actually do the dishes so I can go lay down somewhere in a dark, quiet room. But Zero doesn’t even look at me. He finishes his meal and gets up, without even putting his dish in the sink, and heads for the door.

              My blood boils.

              “Damn it, Zero!” I snarl, throwing the plate into the sink so hard that it shatters against the metal. I’m too angry to care. “I won’t keep doing this! I won’t keep covering for you! I can’t do all this work by myself! The dishes, the cooking, the laundry, the gardening, the dusting! It’s too much! I can’t keep lying to Master Zeke for you!”

              Zero stares at me in surprise. I suppose the tantrum is out of character for me, but I’ve hit the end of my tolerance. After several seconds of staring at each other, I look away first. The room is deathly silent, and it’s with cold dread and despair that I realize I’m probably going to have to clean up a broken plate and still get stuck doing the dishes before I can hope to lay down.

              We both jump when a noise comes from behind us. Zero spins and I look up to see Master standing in the open doorway, his arms crossed and a cold expression on his face.

              “You shouldn’t be lying to me at all,” Master says softly, his voice angry but controlled. Shit! He didn’t get as far as I’d thought and… And my temper tantrum must have made him come back.

              “So,” he continues, stepping toward Zero, “am I to understand that Kiplan has been keeping this entire ship in order entirely by himself this whole time? That you have been ignoring me every time I asked you to help him? That you’ve been blatantly disregarding my orders since he got here?”

              He’s standing in front of Zero now, and I don’t know how Zero manages to look him straight in the eye as he nods, admitting his guilt. I’m practically shaking when Master turns and steps in front of me, but I force myself not to back away.

              “And can I assume that you’ve lied about Zero every time I’ve asked you a question about him? That you’ve covered for him and deceived me multiple times in the few days you’ve been here? That you’ve broken my trust and lied to my face for this?”

              I swallow hard and force myself to nod, knowing that there’s no way to hide my guilt at this point. He steps back, and I feel my knees go weak. What is he going to do?

              But he simply says, “I see,” and steps away from me. He comes to a stop in front of the kitchen door and turns back, like he’s waiting for us to precede him out of the room. My stomach plummets.  

           “Both of you to the Playroom. Now.”


	17. The Punishment - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so _I_ couldn't wait to get this chapter out to you guys, so here it is half a week early. Yay! I'm super excited to hear what everyone thinks about this resolution, so please leave me comments! I really want to know what everyone one thinks. 
> 
> Since this chapter is technically the Thursday update, I'm not sure if I'll be able to put out another chapter this Thursday or if this will simply be this week's update. Just wanted to let everyone know, there might not be an update this week if I can't get another chapter ready by Thursday. 
> 
> As always, a huge thanks to my support team. IntrepidEm and Ygrainne are both awesome for helping me out with this, and Em managed to get this chapter looked over early so I could post it for you guys, so she deserves a round of applause. (Mental applause is fine. I don't want anyone looking at you weird when you start clapping for your computer.)
> 
> I know I always ask for comments, but they do honestly keep me going. I take everybody's input very seriously and try to respond to most, if not all, of the comments I get. I think the comments really help me know where the story is weak and where everyone wants it to go, so I work really hard to incorporate as many of the suggestions as I possibly can. So, if you comment, you will definitely be heard and you help me build a better story. So thanks! I appreciate it!
> 
> Okay, I'd be surprised if anyone is still reading this note at this point. Go read the chapter! I'm so excited to see what you think!

           I’m so angry with Zero that I put Kip on the bench and start with him, because I can’t trust myself with Zero. No wonder Kiplan has been looking so haggard, if he’s taking care of all the cooking and cleaning for the entire ship by himself. And the fact that this was all happening under my watch and to men in my care?

It’s unacceptable.

“I already know that you’ve been lying to me, so there’s no point denying that. I’m also aware that you did it out of some misguided instinct to protect Zero from me, which is so far beyond what I consider acceptable behavior that I’m not even going to address it,” I tell him firmly, earning a whimper from his restrained form. “The point is this: I am Zero’s Owner. I give him orders, and I handle discipline if he disobeys. I am your Owner as well, and I have not given you the authority to supervise my other servants. When I deal with my assets, I expect you not to interfere. Am I understood?”

“I’m sorry,” he sobs, and I can see his shoulders shaking from here. “Please don’t… I’m sorry…” he begs, unable to form a coherent thought. I can’t allow myself to be swayed.

“I’m going to hit you ten times with the paddle that you’re already familiar with. After that, you’re going to apologize and promise never to lie to me again. Do you understand?”

“Please, Master…”

“Yes or no, Kip?”

“Yes, sir,” he responds, his voice as soft as a whisper, like he’s afraid to enrage me with the sound of his voice.

The crack of the paddle on flesh reverberates through the room, as does the sharp, pained cry that Kip gives in response. Along the wall, Zero is naked and suspended from the same manacles I used on him his first time in this room. I see him flinch at Kip’s squeal of pain, but I can’t tell if it’s from surprise or guilt. I’d like to think that Zero feels some remorse for his part in this situation, but his previous actions have made me question whether he can feel empathy for another person. He hasn’t shown much with Kip recently.

The second hit comes down on Kiplan’s naked flesh, followed quickly by a third and fourth. This isn’t about playing with Kip’s body or testing his limits, so there’s no reason to draw it out. I already know that this kind of stimulation translates only as pain to Kip, which is what I want. I’m reluctant to use anything other than the familiar paddle right now, as I don’t want to have to monitor Kiplan’s reactions. I’m also hesitant to put this negative connotation on any other implement in my collection, as Kiplan already dislikes the paddle from our last session.

By the time I reach the final blow and stop, Kip is sobbing desperately. His face is flushed and clammy, an obvious reaction to the pain and adrenaline. He’s still shaking, but his eyes are clear and lucid when they find my face.

“I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry!” he sobs, but he’s not incoherent and he knows that’s not what I want to hear.

“Kiplan,” I tell him softly as I kneel by his head, “I know you’re sorry, if only because you’re being punished. I don’t want you to be sorry. I want your word that you won’t do this again.”

His eyes flit over my face, looking for any sign of mercy I might show. I keep my face blank, but I feel a sharp sting of disappointment when I see him bite his lip. He turns his face away from me a second later, an open denial of my wishes.

“I guess you’ll need another ten as persuasion,” I tell him as I climb to my feet. He cringes, unable to keep another whimper from escaping. As the flexible plastic cracks against his tender flesh, Kip gives a scream of pain, but doesn’t return to begging. I see his hands clench the legs of the bench that he’s strapped to. His shoulders heave as he gasps for breath, but still he does not return to begging for mercy, even as the blows rain down on the heated flesh of his butt and thighs.

If this round doesn’t work, I’ll have to let Kiplan rest for a moment. I can tell that he’s getting overwhelmed, but I need to push him. It’s important that this kind of situation never happens again. I need to be able to trust my assets to be honest with me. 

I don’t mean to push Kiplan past his breaking point. I’m confident that he’ll safeword out if this gets too intense, that he’ll react like Zero and fall back on the training I’ve given him. I keep my ears tuned for, “I beg you to stop,” but he never utters it. Kiplan doesn’t do anything like Zero does, and I’m focused on the wrong things. I’m not watching closely enough for signs of strain to pick up on Kiplan’s more subtle signals. I’m angry at myself and I let those emotions cloud my judgement. So when Kip goes quiet and his breathing starts to get erratic, I don’t stop and pull back. I hit him again and growl, “I want you to promise that you won’t lie to me again. This doesn’t end until you promise to tell me the truth, Kiplan.”

Something snaps in him. I step back, but it’s already too late.

He screams, and there’s nothing discernable at first, but finally I hear, “I won’t! Let me go! I won’t promise you anything! Go to hell! Fuck you! I won’t help you hurt Zero! I’ll die first, you sick fuck!”

The screams and the curses continue, and all the while he fights and bucks like a madman, pulling against the restraints so hard that I know he’ll have bruises in the morning. I move quickly, knowing that I only have a narrow window to calm him before he’ll need to be sedated to keep him from hurting himself. There’s a shelf along the wall and I reach into it, taking out a thick, weighted blanket. I quickly fan it out and drop it over Kiplan’s heaving form, covering him completely. The blanket is so heavy that it lands on him with a slight thump, and the weight of it startles Kiplan into silence.

The weighted blanket is something that I’ve used before on subs who are starting to get overwhelmed, although never one as far gone as Kip is. If this were a normal scene, I’d have immediately released him and gone to get a different dominant to calm him down. We don’t have that option here. Luckily, the blanket seems to be doing its trick, startling him out of his craze and then giving him a comforting cocoon of weight and darkness to let him calm down.

I give him several minutes under there, until I see him start to fidget and know that he’s calmed significantly, before I risk even exposing his face so that I can talk to him. When I pull the blanket back, he’s sniffling and sobbing, trying desperately to quiet himself. My hands reach out even though I’m not really sure what I intend to do.

“Please don’t,” he says, and my hands stop. It takes me a moment to understand that he hadn’t been talking about my hands. “Please,” he begs, his voice broken and wracked with sobs. “Don’t make me hurt Zero,” he pleads. “I can’t… I c-can’t…”

“Shh,” I quiet, hoping to get him back under control. “I’m not asking you to hurt Zero. I’m asking you to be honest with me and trust that I won’t harm Zero when it happens.”

“But you-you’ll punish him,” he argues, and the crazed light is fading from his eyes, making him simply look exhausted and desperate.

“Sometimes,” I tell him honestly, “but only when he deserves it, and only as much as I know he can take.”

“I can’t,” he says again, breathlessly. “I can’t help you hurt him.”

“I need to be able to trust you, Kip. I need you to promise me that you’ll be honest with me. Now, Kiplan. Swear that you won’t ever lie to me again.”

Kip bites his lip and looks away, but when his eyes come back to mine they’re filled with fire again. I chose him for that fire, never thinking I’d get burned as well.

“Beat me then,” he snarls, and the transformation is so sharp that I almost can’t recognize him. “Because I’m not promising shit.”

I fall back a step, as the confrontation method obviously isn’t working. I sigh, and give the pale form before me a calculating look. I can’t continue, but I let him think that his theatrics can dictate my actions.

I step back up to Kip and deliver three more hits with the paddle. He yells, but it’s a significantly more angry tone than before. It doesn’t matter. I’ve finished the punishment that I promised.

“We’re going to take a break,” I tell Kiplan in a firm, even tone. “I’m going to let you up, and you’re going to go sit in the corner. I’m going to handcuff you, just like we did last time. If you try to get away or attempt to attack me, I will discipline you with the chip and then you will spend the rest of the night on this bench. Do you understand?”

Kiplan nods, his jaw clenched in pain and anger. Still, he keeps his temper in check as I release him from the bonds. He yanks away from me when I try to help him up, but I choose to ignore it. He goes to the padded matt in the corner of the room and kneels with most of his weight on his hip, protecting the tender, damaged flesh of his bottom. He won’t look at me as I cuff his wrists, but instead casts fearful glances at Zero. Is Kip afraid of him? Or afraid of what I’ll do to him? Or both?

Zero has been watching during my entire exchange with Kiplan. He watches still as I set the paddle back on the table and pick up a thick cane, which is the only tool I have that shows any real effect on Zero. I take a moment to feel the grip of the leather handle, to run my fingers down the smooth, flexible length. I need to center myself. I have to let Kiplan’s issues fade and focus on Zero.

I turn to him, my shoulders back and my gait slow and determined. I am in no mood to be trifled with tonight. To prove it, I give him two quick hits with the cane, crisscrossing them on his back. Zero hisses in displeasure, but I can tell that I have his full attention.

“You let Kiplan cover for you every time you disobeyed me,” I accuse in a low growl. “You used him to circumvent my orders for weeks.”

“I didn’t know,” Zero responds quickly. There’s an almost plaintive tone to his voice that gives me pause. It’s the first thing he’s said since the kitchen. Where Kip had babbled incoherently on the way here, Zero had gone close-mouthed and stone-cold. Was this a slip? Is he so overwhelmed that he spoke without meaning to? I can see something flicker behind his eyes, if only I could tell what emotion it is.

“What didn’t you know?” I question, and see Zero’s jaw tighten in refusal. He gets another two hits for that, but it doesn’t loosen his tongue. Still, I’ve got a clue and I decide to run with it.

“Alright,” I tell him as I circle his tense form. “If you don’t want to talk, then I’ll tell you what I think.”

No reaction to that, but then I suppose I didn’t really expect one.

“I think you’ve been a dick lately. I think you’ve been grumpy and miserable, and you’ve taken it out on everyone around you. What I don’t understand is why you’ve been like this. At first I thought you were jealous of Kiplan, but that’s not it, is it?” I ask, and Zero is clenching his jaw so hard that it trembles. “You’re not jealous of Kip, you’re threatened by him.”

That gets a reaction, and he jerks like I’ve hit him with a tazer.  

“Not threatened by him as a person, necessarily,” I clarify, glancing to where Kip is still huddled on the floor, “but by what he represents. He’s the first new asset I’ve introduced you to, but he’s opened a whole realm of possibilities, hasn’t he? Because you know I plan to keep purchasing assets, and that scares you.”

I hesitate, because I’m not really sure why being afraid of me buying more assets would make Zero so cruel to Kip. What’s the purpose of it? I don’t have an answer, so I take a mental step back and start again with what I do know.

“You didn’t like disobeying,” I continue. “You don’t, for the most part, ever try to disobey me, even when I ask something difficult from you. And yet, this time, you specifically disobeyed me over something stupid. Something you’d done before without complaint.”

I pause for a moment, contemplating the sullen asset in front of me. I try to put myself in Zero’s mindset, knowing that he’s far from stupid and understanding that his brain doesn’t necessarily work like the average person’s.

“You knew you’d get caught,” I conjecture, and suddenly Zero can’t meet my eyes. “You were hoping for it. You needed to test the structure of my household now that another asset had been added. You wanted to see what I would do if I found you abusing Kiplan. You wanted to know if I would take control and put a stop to it. So you pushed Kiplan around, believing that you’d be caught and then you’d be able to see for yourself.”

Then it dawns on me, what he’d meant by saying “I didn’t know” earlier. Why he’s been so miserable lately. Why he’s been intentionally cruel to Kiplan, even though Kiplan had been nothing but nice to him.

“You didn’t know,” I tell him softly, and his eyes dart up to meet mine. His mouth moves, but no words come out. That’s alright, though, because everything is starting to fall into place. “You didn’t know Kiplan was covering for you. You thought I knew everything you’d done to Kiplan, and that I didn’t care enough to stop it.”

I take a moment to let myself feel that, feel the hurt of it. Zero honestly thought I didn’t care enough to intercede. After all the time he’s had with me, he still doesn’t trust me to protect him. And maybe, after how spectacularly I’ve failed this time, he shouldn’t trust me. Maybe I’m not worthy of that trust.

“Kiplan covered for you, so I never found out what was happening. So the abuses continued, because you thought that I was allowing them. You thought that, if I didn’t protect Kip, then I couldn’t be trusted to protect you either. You had to put yourself at the top of the hierarchy, or risk suffering abuses yourself. So you pushed Kip harder, establishing dominance and hoping to find the boundary of what I would accept. Only I didn’t know what was happening, so you couldn’t find the limit. And the further you pushed, the more unhappy you became.”

Damn it. How could I have let them both down so completely?

“That’s not how it works here. There is no fighting between my assets, no competition. You serve me, you obey me, and you leave each other alone. You don’t have to like each other. You don’t have to get along. But you will not do anything to harm or take advantage of one another, or you will face discipline from me.”

Kiplan is watching from the corner, listening to every word I say. I can see him out of my peripheral vision, but I don’t let myself glance at him. I’m confident he’s heard what I’ve said, so I don’t take my eyes off of Zero.

“So the punishment is twenty lashes,” I instruct as I move behind him again, “which you will count as I administer them. You do not have the option to forgo this punishment, but I will pause if you need it. Do you understand?”

He nods, and I lay the first blow against his back. His spine arches in pain even as he counts the first strike. For Zero, these hits are a penance that he pays, which is why I’ve demanded that he count them. Unlike Kip, who was disciplined as a form of coercion, I want Zero to focus on the number of hits he must bear, whereas I wanted Kip to focus on the task he had to accomplish to make the pain end. Like Kip’s punishment, though, I don’t drag Zero’s punishment out.

Zero counts diligently, his voice toneless and strong even when he’s wincing and groaning from pain. His back and thighs are striped with thin red lines by the time I’m done, and he’s perspiring slightly. His face is reddened and he’s breathing heavily, but it’s not the worst punishment he’s taken from me.

“I can take more than that,” Zero tells me when I stop after the last hit. It’s not the first time he’s reminded me of his endurance, but there’s something off about his tone this time. Is it guilt? Does he finally grasp the unnecessary hardship he’s placed on Kip, and wants to use physical punishment as a means to assuage his guilt?

“No,” I respond evenly. Zero doesn’t get to dictate the duration of his punishment any more than Kiplan gets to shorten his by screaming. It’s the same basic idea of control. I can’t let their actions influence my decisions, or I grant them control that I need to be effective. Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with the both of them. Perhaps giving so much freedom to people who have never experienced that level of autonomy is a recipe for disaster.

I put the crop aside and cue the winch to lower Zero back to his feet. He tips slightly but manages to stay upright. I contemplate him for a moment, then cast my eyes to Kip’s miserable form in the corner.

“I think we need a time out,” I tell them both. I see both sets of eyes come to me, and I move toward Kiplan first. He flinches away from me when I lean down, but I simply remove his cuffs and instruct him to follow me. Zero gets released next, and he sways dizzily before righting himself without my assistance. They both follow me meekly.

In the back of the room, there’s a door that leads into a box. It’s about the size and shape of a closet, with no handle on the inside. The walls and floors are padded, and the room is kept at a comfortable temperature. I’ve used similar devices as a sensory deprivation chamber for submissives who need a moment to calm down or are overstimulated. Today, though, I’m using it to force my two assets to interact, if only by getting into each other’s space.

“You’re going to stay in here,” I tell them, opening the door to the small room, “until I feel that you’ve learned to tolerate each other. I will return for you when I feel that you’ve both sufficiently reflected on your actions.”

Kiplan enters first, after only a moment of hesitation. I can see that he doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t protest. He looks exhausted, although I can understand why.

Zero steps up next, but I stop him with a hand on his shoulder. I lean over to look him directly in the eyes and warn, “If Kiplan comes out of there with one additional bruise or scratch, I will make you regret it. Am I understood?”

Zero nods, and I let him continue into the box.

Two pairs of metallic eyes stare at me balefully as I close the door, locking them into the dark, confined chamber.

I hope I’m doing the right thing.  


	18. Silence - Kip POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've received so many comments on the last chapter, and most of them weren't even angry ones yelling at me about the evil cliffhangers! ;) Thanks guys! I really appreciate it!
> 
> As always, I couldn't do this without my support team. IntrepidEm and Ygrainne have really been picking up my slack this week so they deserve all the thanks for how clean these chapters have been. I can't give them enough credit for helping me out.
> 
> I'm throwing a late note in here and I'll put one in for next week. As we near another hiatus (this section is going to be roughly 25 chapters) I'm putting out feelers for more betas and editors. I use my hiatus time to put together a few chapters from the next section so that I get ahead of posting and can maintain my once a week posting schedule. I also would like to get some volunteers to check out some other fics that I have cooking (there's a superheros/aliens/abo fic that just got rejected from the publisher. :( I'm not surprised, but I'd like to get it looked at and see if I can fix it up.) I'm also planning to do some stuff on [My Website](http://ryoko21.weebly.com/) like reviews and polls and blogs, kind of whatever I hear that everyone wants to see. So let me know! Thanks!

The inside of the closet is dark, lit only by the dull glow of a line of dim, purple lights along the floor. I can just make out Zero’s outline as I fight to stay on my feet. My world tips dizzily and I put a hand against the wall to steady myself. In another moment, my forehead is pressed against the wall as well, trying to find any steady surface to halt this sickening spinning. I’d sit down, if it wouldn’t put me in Zero’s lap.

“Are you going to be sick?” he asks, and I can understand why he’d want to know. In these confined quarters, it’d be as bad for him as for me.

“No,” I deny. “Just-… Just give me a second.”

I don’t feel very well. The fact is, I hadn’t felt very well before all this, and now with the added ache from Master’s paddling and the fading adrenaline heaped on top of the migraine I already had, I feel pretty much awful.

“Do you need me to get Master Zeke?” Zero asks, and concern isn’t something I often hear from him. “This door won’t hold me.”

“No!” I tell him quickly. I’m not going to let Zero make things any worse for us if I can stop it. “No, I’ll be fine in a minute!”

But the dizziness hits me again and I find myself falling to my knees, shoving hard against Zero as I drop. There’s no room for the pair of us to sit in this tiny room, and I find myself kneeling over top of his feet.

Zero doesn’t shove me off as I’m expecting. Instead, in the most surprising move he’s made all night, he settles down beside me and pulls me so that I’m sitting in his lap. I go because I don’t have any choice: Zero is stronger than me and I was about to topple over anyway. I latch onto his shoulder and cling for balance as the room swirls around me. I press my face against his chest and feel his heat against my naked skin. The warmth of his body helps to ease some of this trembling that I can’t seem to get stopped. His arms wrap around my torso and pull me in closer, but still the shaking won’t subside.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and I don’t know how to respond to him. “I didn’t know you were hiding it from him. I didn’t want to make your life harder. I just… I just wanted to know how he’d treat me, if I ever fell out of favor.”

“I understand,” I tell him softly. It’s a good plan, actually. Testing to see how a lesser asset is treated would tell Zero how important it is for him to stay on top. Unfortunately, I interfered and messed up his calculations.

It seems like that’s all I do anymore, is mess things up and fail.

The tears come unbidden, and I’m helpless to stop them. Have all my struggles been for nothing? Did my efforts really make everything so much worse? Would it have been better if they’d left me to die at the Oasis? Because I can’t imagine Master Zeke will keep me now, not after all the trouble I’ve been.

I try to pull away from Zero. The tears are cascading down my face, and there’s nothing to wipe them away with. I don’t want to get Zero wet by sobbing into his shoulder, but his arms are around me and he won’t let me move away. I feel so weak. Not that I could overpower Zero on a good day, but I’m so exhausted that I only manage to give a token resistance before collapsing into a sobbing mess against his shoulder.

He lets me cry it out, even when my tears run down his skin. Even when I muffle my sobs against his chest. Even when I curl my legs under me, becoming a miserable heap in his lap.

I don’t have the strength to keep going for very long. The sobs quietly taper off, the shaking subsides into a drained, boneless ache. I rest my head against Zero’s shoulder for no other reason than that I can’t hold it up on my own. My eyes become half-lidded, and if only my head weren’t pounding so hard I probably would have fallen into a deep sleep.

“You can’t do this again,” Zero chides softly, and at first I think he’s talking about crying all over him, but then he says, “This kind of punishment is too hard on you. You can’t anger Zeke in this way.”

I’ve noticed that Zero does that sometimes, when Master isn’t around. In my mind and speech it’s always “Master,” but sometimes Zero slips and only says “Zeke.” Is it because Zero trusts him more than me? That, in Zero’s mind, Master Zeke isn’t simply another nameless, faceless figure bent on our degradation and pain? Is it because Zero thinks of him as a person, whereas I can only see him as Master?

“I can’t help it,” I defend. “I can’t… I won’t watch him hurt you. It’s worth more than my life is, to watch the suffering of another and do nothing. I won’t do that, not again.”

The greatest shame I have are the few times that I could have intervened to save another from punishment, and I did nothing. Those moments left me hollow, left me feeling worse than dead. What would my grandmother think of the boy she raised? Of the man she always hoped would be kind and generous? Would she even recognize me now, as callous as I’ve become?

“I’m not suffering,” Zero responds with a roll of his eyes. “He doesn’t hurt me.”

“Zero- He  _ does. _ I’ve seen it.”

“It’s not the same,” he responds. “He hurts me, yes, but it’s not like others have. It’s not cruel. He… pushes me. He uses pain as a guide. It’s not just about tormenting me.”

“I don’t understand,” I argue, pulling away as much as I’m able so I can look into his face. “He hit you. He made you a pleasure slave. He raped you!”

“He hasn’t.” Zero’s eyes go dark. “He hasn’t forced any of those things on me. I didn’t want to kill any more, so he gave me another option. I wanted to compete, so he let me train. And he hasn’t…” Zero’s eyes slide to the side, unable to meet mine, “he hasn’t fully taken me yet. His training has been slow and thorough. He doesn’t think I’m ready. He wants… I think he wants you to guide me. He wants me to see what it’s like for you before I try it.”

Sex with Master Zeke isn’t something I’ve let myself contemplate very often. My experiences with sex have been mostly unpleasant. I had a few lessons at the Oasis before I was sold the first time, and then my first owner used me on occasion when he didn’t have a pleasure slave handy. Other than that, I’ve had a few, somewhat satisfying interactions with other assets, but nothing with other owners. Will it be as bad as the few times with my first owner? I know that the kind of man he is makes a difference, but not always enough to make up for the pain of it.

Still… what happened in the kitchenette wasn’t unpleasant. I feel a glimmer of hope and try to quash it. That was an anomaly. It was a strange evening for both of us, and not necessarily indicative of our next encounter. Besides, he didn’t penetrate me then, either, but his cock was certainly large enough to make me hesitant. It was definitely larger than any others I’d seen before.

“You need to rest,” Zero instructs, shifting me so that I’m leaning on him once again. I jolt out of my thoughts, glad to have the distraction.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur as he shifts me into a more comfortable position. “I’m sure I’m getting heavy.”

He actually snorts at that and… Well, yes, I can see where he’s coming from.

“If you were half as concerned about yourself as you are about my comfort, we wouldn’t be having these problems,” he tells me, his gruff voice still quiet in the darkness of this closet. “You need to stop worrying about me.”

           “I’m sorry,” I apologize again, because I don’t know what else to say. “I just… I just wanted to be friends.”

He’s silent for a long time. Long enough that I start to doze. Then, quietly, he whispers, “I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

“It’s okay,” I respond. “I’ve never really had a friend either.” He scoffs, and it makes me come awake enough to defend myself. “I was the only clone around when I was little. I didn’t even know what I was until I figured out what my eyes meant.” I don’t know why I’m telling him all this, but I can’t see to make the words stop. “It was just me and my gram. She told people that belonged to her son who died, but there was no way to hide these eyes.”

I give myself a moment to think about her. I feel an almost physical stab of pain when I wonder if she’s even still alive.

“People didn’t like clones in my area, so I mostly stayed in the house with my gram. There wasn’t anything she could do about how people felt, so she baked to comfort me, but that just made it worse. I got chubby, and you know how mean kids can be. So there I was, a fat, weak, light-eyed clone. I thought I would have done anything to get away from that place, but I never wanted to leave my gran. Then they took me. Starved me. Used me. And nobody ever helped me or stood up for me. I tried. I tried, when I could, to help the other slaves, but there was only so much I could do. And then I got here and I thought…” I hesitate, “I thought maybe it would be okay, if it was just the two of us. Maybe we could be friends,” I take an unsteady breath and let my eyes close, “but then I made you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Zero growls. “I don’t know if I can hate anyone. I hadn’t felt much of anything before Master Zeke took me off of my suppressants. Now everything seems strange,” he admits. “I have an opinion or a feeling about everything. Sometimes I have multiple feelings about things.” His eyes come to my face, and I wouldn’t be able to see it if we weren’t so close. “I have a lot of opinions about you. You’re a threat to my status, but you’re an advantage for Zeke. You should be trying to get ahead of me, but you’ve done your best to protect me. You should hate me for being cruel to you, but you’re obsessed with making me like you.” Zero tilts his head, contemplating me. “I’m not sure how I feel about you.”

I give it a moment, wondering if Zero will come to a conclusion, but then I realize that it’s not fair of me to pressure him like this.

“I understand,” I tell him, turning my face back against his shoulder. “I’m just… I guess I’m just glad you don’t hate me for being weak and pathetic.”

          “Strong, weak, they’re both just words,” he counters. “I never would have protected you like you did for me. Does that make me weak?”

          “Makes you smart,” I reply glumly.

          “You’re not stupid. You’re kind,” Zero corrects, “and I don’t really know what to do with that.”

          I manage a half-smile even though I don’t think Zero is joking

          “It’s okay,” I tell him softly. “You don’t have to do anything. It’s nice just having a person I can be kind to. I just want to be friends.”

For a moment, I think Zero might speak again, but he doesn’t. I feel him give a slight nod with his head, then he leans back against the wall and closes his eyes. I don’t think that he’ll actually manage to sleep in here, but I take it as a sign that he’s done talking and that I should sleep as well. I sigh and curl in closer, letting my eyes fall shut. Without our conversation, there’s nothing to distract me from the lingering pain in my head, but I’m exhausted in mind and body. It only takes me a few minutes to fall into an uneasy doze.

When the door opens, the light that spills in makes me jump and flinch away. My headache has receded to a dull roar, but I’m still achy and exhausted. Zero doesn’t move behind me, but then he probably heard Master approaching and woke up, if he slept at all.

            “Mas-…” I try to say, but his finger comes to my lips and I stutter to a stop. He kneels in front of me, and the movement isn’t particularly threatening but I flinch back. There’s a wide piece of red fabric in his hand, and when I still he loops it around my head and pulls it across my lips, covering my mouth loosely.

“I don’t want to gag you,” Master says, and his voice is soft despite the threat, “but I don’t want you talking tonight. I won’t turn off your ability to talk in case there’s an emergency, but this will remind you that I want silence. You will comply unless absolutely necessary.”

I go to say, “Yes, sir,” but my lips move against the fabric and remind me not to speak, so I nod instead. Master has another piece of red cloth in his hands, and moves behind me to wrap this one around Zero’s mouth. Zero shoots him a glare, but doesn’t resist.

“Come,” Master instructs and lifts me out of Zero’s arms. I want to protest, but my mouth is covered and I don’t want to anger Master Zeke. I’m still feeling weak and my head spins as Master lifts me, so maybe it’s for the best that I don’t have to walk. I hear Zero moving and see him following sullenly behind as Master starts walking.

Master stays silent as he carries me. I let my eyes slip closed again, only opening them when he slides me into bed in the guest room back in the servant’s wing. I want to protest, but even if I hadn’t been ordered into silence, I’m not feeling daring enough to push. Master tucks me in and then gestures for Zero to follow him, turning out the light and leaving me alone in the dark room.

In the darkness and the quiet, everything seems stark and hopeless. I curl under my blankets and feel the silk against my face. The fact that Master didn’t say anything, didn’t take the time to explain what was happening or tell me what might happen tomorrow, makes me think he’s given up on me. In the past, even when I’ve failed, he’s been sure to offer me reassurances and explanations. Has he finally realized that I’m not worth the effort?

           The tears come again, and this time they’re so strong that I choke trying to keep them quiet. Unlike the easy tears of earlier, these come as painful, wracking sobs. I find myself shaking again, cold despite the blanket wrapped around me. I bury my face in the pillow, but it isn’t enough to fully quiet my crying.

I hear the door creak open and hold my breath, afraid that I’ve caught Master’s notice. I don’t want him thinking that I’m making a bid for attention and getting angry with me. I hide my face as footsteps approach the bed, looking up only when they stop in front of me. It’s Zero standing there, still naked and with the piece of red silk tied over his mouth. He stares at me, his metallic gray eyes just barely reflecting the dim light spilling in from the ajar door to the hall.

After a moment, he turns and pushes the door shut, throwing us both into stark darkness. I hear him moving again and I lie there, uncomprehending, until he shoves me over and climbs in beside me. Zero is not generally one to cuddle, but he pulls me against him and lets me cling on, lets me curl against him and cuddle desperately. I take full advantage of his unusual tactility, curling against his side, twining our legs, and burying my face in his shoulder. He gives a long-suffering sigh and winds his arm around me. The warmth of his body helps ease my shaking, and the strength of his presence calms my sobs.

           And the fact that he came to comfort me when he heard my pain makes me think that maybe, just maybe, everything isn’t so hopeless after all.


	19. That Morning - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just letting everyone know that we're nearing another hiatus. Yay? I'm glad this section is nearing completion but I hate taking time off. Still, totally necessary if I want to keep up my pace of posting once a week. 
> 
> I try to do some more stuff on my [Website](http://ryoko21.weebly.com/) while I'm on hiatus. I already have some reviews of Free M/M Fiction online, so I'll probably do some more of that. I've also been thinking about trying to get into some blogging or discussions, maybe some polls to see what everyone wants to look at on the site. It's pretty bare right now, I'd like to get some more stuff going. I've also had some questions about putting my fanfiction and fanfiction recs on there, but I haven't decided what I think about that yet. 
> 
> I'm also on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ryoko21Fiction) now and I've been on [Livejournal](http://ryoko21.livejournal.com/) forever. I mostly use the both of them for update alerts right now, but I've got a wealth of fanfiction recs on Livejournal if you're interested seeing what I've read over the last decade. 
> 
> As always, I have to thank IntrepidEm and Ygrainne. I know my pace has been hard for them to keep up with and they're both doing their absolute best to look over everything before it gets posted. I give them all the thanks for taking time to look over my stuff for me. They're awesome!
> 
> If I haven't said it enough, please please let me know what you think of this fic. Kudos are great, comments are even better. Knowing people like this fic is really what keeps me motivated to write it, and of course I take any helpful criticism to heart and try to adapt. Thank you for your support! Hope you like it!

I find the two of them the next morning, curled together like puppies. Zero is awake and glaring at me, Kiplan curled on his chest and still fast asleep. The silk fabric is still tied around Zero’s face, but Kiplan’s has slipped off of his mouth and is now resting loosely around his throat. The idea had been to keep them (mostly Kip, really) from pleading or begging for forgiveness last night. We were all too charged, and I wanted to give them each time to calm down and sleep after their ordeal. I’d put Zero in the captain’s quarters and Kip in the servant’s room he’d used when he was sick. I had gone up and spent the night sleeplessly in the Master’s chambers that Kip prepared earlier in the day, finding it nearly impossible to sleep in the cavernous room.

Zero’s arms tighten around his charge as I approach, and I feel a momentary surge of optimism that Zero has not only disobeyed me to seek out Kip, but he also seems to be displaying protective tendencies toward the slighter man. But then, Zero isn’t the problem, not really. It’s Kiplan’s selfless inclination to jump between us that’s caused the issues we’ve had to address recently.

Zero’s loose gag comes away under my fingers, and Kiplan murmurs sleepily as I remove his as well. Zero gives Kiplan a nudge, making the other man flutter his lashes and wake slowly. He flinches when he sees me, but I suppose that’s to be expected after last night. Kiplan’s been skittish at the best of times.

“I want you both to shower and then join me for breakfast.”

I leave the room with my instructions hanging in the air, confident that I’ll get no resistance from either of them. I have breakfast waiting in the kitchenette on this floor- cinnamon rolls that Kiplan had made and frozen earlier, that I managed to unearth in the enormous, walk-in freezer on the upper floor’s professional kitchen. Walking them down to the kitchenette with an armful of milk and juice, I had wondered again at how much work Kiplan has been doing without me knowing it. Seeing the walk-in freezer, filled to the brim with frozen foods and packaged vegetables, knowing that Kiplan has also done all the gardening, cleaning, and cooking on his own, it’s little wonder that he’s looking frayed and losing weight.

In the kitchenette, the frozen rolls are ready to come out of the oven. I set them on the table just as Kiplan and Zero come shuffling into the room. They’re both wet from the shower, but wearing their normal clothes: workout shorts and a loose tanktop for Zero and long cotton pants and a button-down for Kip. Zero gives me a defiant look as he enters; rebelling, I suppose, against the notion that I hadn’t wanted them to put on clothes, although I hadn’t given instructions either way. Kiplan keeps his head down and shuffles, barefooted, to the table. He stands in front of his chair, too nervous to sit down. Zero looms in the doorway, but also makes no movement to sit.

“Take a seat, both of you,” I instruct, pouring them each a glass of orange juice, even though I know Zero prefers black coffee and Kip would rather have tea. “Come and eat breakfast.”

They both settle down without complaint, silently eating. Zero doesn’t like pastries and Kiplan doesn’t seem to have much of an appetite this morning, but they both eat diligently, like it’s a chore. I pour myself a glass of cranberry juice and nibble on my own roll. Somehow, I’m not particularly hungry either.

It’s not long before Zero and Kiplan finish, sitting silently at their seats and not daring to ask to leave. This isn’t the kind of obedience I want from them, but I suppose it will have to do while I work to repair all the other issues we’re having.

“Zero, I want you to go to the gym and practice,” I order when I’ve finished the last of my food. “I’m going to talk to Kiplan alone.”

Kiplan looks stricken and nearly sick. Zero casts him a worried glance before frowning at me. I can tell he wants to argue with me, but there’s nothing he can say that will make this any better. He could get himself in trouble, sure, but I’d still talk to Kip despite his efforts. Finally, he rises with a snarl and storms out of the room.

Zero’s footsteps echo down the hall, and I check my Key just to make sure he’s gone, because I wouldn’t put it past him to double back silently. He hesitates, but eventually he goes into the training area and stays there. I’d like to think that he trusts me at least enough to know that I won’t hurt Kiplan or attempt any more discipline after last night’s punishment. It’s possible, though, that he’s anticipated that I’d be watching him.

The time while Zero decides what he’s going to do gives Kiplan a moment to settle after his near-panic when I asked Zero to leave. When Zero finally goes to the gym, Kip has finally calmed his breathing, even though he still looks a bit pale and shaken.

I give a sigh and he flinches, not daring to look up at me. This isn’t how I want things to be between us. I need obedience and respect, not terror.

“I’m not going to attack you,” I tell him softly. He nods, but won’t lift his head.

“I know,” he says softly. “You’ve been-” his breath hitches, “more than generous with me. I’m s-sorry I’ve been such trouble for you.”

“I can’t say I’m pleased with it,” I respond, keeping my voice low and even, hoping that he’ll come out of this state enough to talk to me, “but it’s not like I expected this to be easy. Even Zero wasn’t easy to train, and his obedience was unflinching.”

“And now he’s being disobedient,” he says miserably, “because of my influence.”

“You are not responsible for Zero’s decisions,” I remind him. He nods, but seems unconvinced. I sigh, and try a new tactic. “I understand why you hid Zero’s disobedience from me at first. You thought I would hurt him, and you didn’t want to be responsible for that. Do you understand now that the discipline I give Zero isn’t going to truly injure him? Can I trust you not to get in between us again? That you won’t help him deceive me?”

“Yes, sir,” he responds, his voice shaking.

“It’s not just that, though,” I continue. “You’ve been working yourself to death recently. I am partially to blame for not watching you more closely, but you took it upon yourself to set up a routine that you knew you couldn’t maintain without endangering your health. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers, and his eyes are wide and haunted, staring at his fingers on the table. “I don’t know. I thought I was doing the right thing… with this, with Zero. I’ve always done it this way and… I’m so sorry, Master.”

“I need to make sure this isn’t going to happen again. I need you to be healthy, and if that means monitoring your every move, so be it. But I don’t think that’s how it needs to be. So, you tell me. Can I trust you? Do you even want this? Do you want to stay with me?”

He surprises me by surging to his feet. At first I tense, thinking he’s going to run, but he comes around to my side of the table and kneels in front of me. He puts his head on my knees and starts sobbing brokenly. Between wet gasps, I can hear him say, “I want to stay! Please, don’t send me away! Don’t sell me! I want to stay! I want to stay!”

“Okay, calm down,” I soothe, running my fingers through his hair. I’m angrier at myself than him, and I feel bad that I’ve had to get him this upset. I know he wants to stay, given his other options. It was an empty threat, since I won’t send him back to that. Someone as innocent and frail as Kiplan, I don’t understand how he’s managed to survive this long.

“You’ve been doing so much better,” I tell him softly, still stroking his hair. “You’re looking better. Your migraines are gone.  You seem to have more energy. I need you to be healthy if you’re going to be of any use to me. Maintaining the ship is secondary,” I tell him seriously. “I can get another asset to do basic cleaning,” probably not the gourmet cooking, though. “I need you as a pleasure asset. I need to be able to show you off, to show off your improvement side-by-side with Zero’s.” I tilt his face to look at me. “Can you do better? Can you promise me that you’ll take better care of yourself?”

“Yes,” he responds. His eyes bright and desperate, but his voice is clear. “Please, Master, I promise.”

“No more lying?”

“No,” he says breathlessly. “I promise. Please.”

“I believe you,” I tell him. “Calm down. I know how hard it must have been for you to lie to me.”

“Yes, Master. I’m sorry.”

My hands slide to his shoulders, and I can feel his pulse pounding like a rabbit’s. His breaths are coming in short little gasps, and I have to give him a moment to slow his pulse. The last thing I need is for him to pass out on me. 

“So, here’s how it’s going to go,” I tell him after a few minutes. I pull my hands away and let him climb to his feet. He wipes at his eyes and takes a shaky breath, then returns to his chair. “You and I are going to sit here and work out how much of the chores you can handle, what Zero can pick up, and what can be skipped entirely. Then you are going to go relax for the rest of the day. Tomorrow and the next day will be recovery days. I need you to get in better shape, because I need to start your sexual training. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” he responds, and there’s a note of desperation in his voice that I’m not pleased to hear. “I’ll do anything.” But there’s only so much I can do in one sitting, so I let it go.

We spend a while working through the upkeep that needs to be done on the ship. It’s surprisingly more than I had expected. Some of the rooms, I decide, can be closed off until I get a couple more assets to help Kiplan. Some things, like washing the floors and dusting, Zero can take over fairly easily, and then there are the dishes that he was supposed to be doing all along. Other things, like the cooking and the laundry, will still need to be done by Kiplan, but can be scaled back in areas. The lavish meals are going to be cut back to once a day, at dinner. Breakfast and lunch will be quick-serve or leftovers, not made-to-order as Kiplan has been doing.

I get Kiplan settled back in his bedroom – the one on the servant’s floor, since I haven’t gotten comfortable in the Master bedroom yet – before I’ll dare to leave him alone. I know he’s still exhausted from last night, but I wouldn’t put it past him to try working himself harder to make up for disappointing me. So instead of chancing it, I make sure he’s tucked in with a tablet for entertainment and already looking droopy-eyed before I’ll leave him alone.

Great, I think as I pull the door closed. Now I just need to take care of Zero.

Still, I gird myself and head down to the gym, where I find Zero running laps. My body is full of nervous energy, but I’m tired and achy as well. Maybe I’ll swim a few laps later, but right now I’m too emotionally wrought and exhausted. I motion Zero over and settle myself on a stack of mats by the cooler, tossing Zero a bottle of water as he approaches. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his skin. He hasn’t had time to run more than a few laps, but it looks like he ran them hard. 

“We need to talk about Kip,” I tell him as he settles cross legged on the floor in front of me. 

“Okay,” Zero responds evenly. 

“I need to understand what happened with you. I mean,” I sigh, running my fingers through my bangs, “I know  _ what _ happened, but… why? What were you trying to prove by shirking your chores? Why did you feel the need to test me instead of talking to me?”

           Zero is unhesitant in his response. “Pleasure assets go in and out of favor. I’ve seen it. If one stays out of favor long enough, the other assets take advantage. My owner only had a couple assets, so it didn’t get out of hand, but… I’ve never been in that position before. I was his only combat asset. I’m used to having no competition, and suddenly I’m in a position where I’m not very skilled in my category and I’m in direct competition with another asset. I was…” he cuts off, unable to say that he was afraid. 

              “I understand your feelings, Zero, but you need to be able to talk to me when you feel this way.”

“Talking proves nothing,” he counters. “From our prior interactions, I knew you would have reassured me that Kip would never usurp my place. But words are meaningless, and I needed you to prove that you would protect me. So I pushed my limits with Kiplan, so that you would step in and protect him.”

           “And when I failed?” I reply, although the words cause a twist of nausea in my guts. How did everything get so out of hand so quickly? I don’t even know myself.

“I needed to know how far I was allowed to push. I needed to find boundaries, so I knew what to expect and could prepare.” Again, his actions are logical, cold, and calculated. Everything I’d hoped he’d started to leave behind when his emotions had surfaced. I guess some things are too ingrained to be removed so easily.

           “And if you hadn’t found any?” I ask. “Zero, would you have hurt Kiplan? You came close simply by inaction, but… I won’t leave you two together if I can’t trust him with you.”

“I wouldn’t have touched him,” he says fiercely. “You know that. You left us together last night. You wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t trust me.”

“I don’t know what to think,” I tell him tersely. I don’t like to be corrected, but he’s right. I left them alone last night because I do, at my core, trust Zero’s instincts. I don’t think he’s capable of harming an innocent, although his treatment of Kip made me start to doubt myself. 

“I didn’t think I could trust Kip,” Zero admits softly, “but he proved himself last night. You don’t have to worry about me treating him badly anymore. I know that we’re on the same side.”

“That’s something, I suppose,” I respond. I roll my shoulders, trying to work some of the tension out of them. The stress is putting me in knots. “I don’t know what to do with him, honestly. He’s still so skittish. He gets nervous every time I’m in the same room. You can practically feel the tension coming off of him, and he always finds something to do to avoid me. I could force him to interact with me, but…”

“It probably wouldn’t make things better,” Zero finishes.

“I was hoping to give him some space to relax, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“He’s been preoccupied with protecting me,” Zero reasons. “Maybe if he doesn’t have to worry about that, he’ll stop being so frightened of you?”

“Maybe,” I respond, unsure. “I’m going to give the two of you some space for the next couple days to bond and settle into this new routine. Make an effort with him, please?”

“I will,” Zero responds. “You don’t have to tell me. I… I don’t dislike him. I was just worried… about my status.” Which is to say, Zero was afraid of the interloper. At least he feels that Kip is trustworthy now. But… I don’t know. Is there some way I can use that to connect with Kip? To get him to trust me? Or will it be enough if he bonds with Zero and is obedient to me?

I rub at the back of my neck. I can feel the tension in my shoulders. I hardly got any sleep last night, hearing Kip’s screams and curses in my nightmares. It made me feel like the monster he obviously thinks I am.

Zero rises and comes to stand beside me where I’m sitting on the mats. He puts his hands on my shoulders, digs his fingers into the tense muscles. I hiss at the sudden pain, then relax as he eases the pressure. His fingers are skilled and strong, and they almost make me forget what we’re talking about.

“I’m sorry,” Zero says softly. “I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble. I hadn’t thought that this situation would cause you to react like this.”

“I’m human, too,” I remind him, reaching up to place my hand on his where it rests on my shoulder, gently kneading. “I react to stressful situations just like anyone else. And I’m honestly trying to help here, so it upsets me when…” When I find that the men I trust with my life don’t trust me with theirs? When I realize that a situation I thought was under control is completely out of hand? When I’m going into a life-threatening situation and the only two people I have to help me don’t trust me, don’t trust each other, and don’t know half of what’s going on? “...when things go wrong.”

“I will try to do better,” Zero promises. “I will keep an eye on Kiplan. I think it’s a good idea to give him a couple days to settle. I’ll talk to him. Maybe if he’s not stressed and trying to protect me, it’ll be easier to convince him that you’re not…” he hesitates. I know that his sentence was going to end with calling me a monster, and I’ve been feeling like it lately, every time Kiplan looks at me. In a show of uncharacteristic tact, though, Zero changes it to, “...that you’re not against us. You’re not the enemy.”

           Unfortunately, for all Kiplan knows, that’s exactly what I am. An owner cannot be a partner with his assets, cannot care about their well-being, cannot think about them outside of what services they can offer him. And as long as this lie stands between us, that’s all I’ll ever be to Kiplan. 

           But I don’t trust that he can handle the truth, and I won’t put him in that kind of danger. Not to mention the danger it puts Zero in if Kiplan blows my cover. No, I’ll have to find some way to work through this with Kiplan. I can only hope that giving him some space with Zero will take away some of his fear of me, and then we can try again. 

Unfortunately, there’s a limit to how much time I can give him. I’ve already agreed to attend a gathering in less than two weeks. I need Kiplan prepared, and I don’t trust that his training as a pleasure asset will be enough. Ideally, it will cut down significantly on the time it takes to train him compared to Zero, but I still don’t want to take him in without getting him some experience with Zero and me. So there’s that to contend with, on top of the issues of mistrust that Kip has toward me. 

I sigh and lean my head back against Zero’s abs, closing my eyes. Zero’s skilled fingers have worked most of the tension out of my shoulders, and something about having someone to talk to about this is making me feel better. It would be a great relief to be able to speak plainly, to have my secret out in the open, but I know why that’s not an option. Still, just knowing that Zero is trying to help makes me feel like I’m not so alone in this battle. 

“You should take a bath,” Zero says, and the thought of a hot soak in the whirlpool does sound inviting. “It always makes you feel better.”

“Come with me?” I ask. I know I could order it, but I’m so sick of being the master. I’m tired and it would just be nice if someone else could take the lead for a moment. Just a moment of not having to wear this tiring persona like a weight around my neck.

Zero shakes his head and says, “I need to finish training for the day, and then I’d like to check on Kip and do some chores. I’m assuming you’ve written down a new list of things for me to do?”

“Yes,” I respond, feeling a quick sting of disappointment that I suppress immediately. It must be the stress, I think, that’s making me so emotional. “I sent a copy to your tablet. Kiplan’s list is there too, so you can make sure he’s only doing his own chores and not going beyond the scope of his duties. I’ve also compiled a list of things that no one is supposed to be doing, so you can keep him away from those tasks.”

“Of course, sir,” he says, pulling his hands away from my shoulders. I miss his touch immediately. “I’ll take care of Kip.”

I remind myself that I’m the owner. That no one needs to take care of me. I’ve been a lone operative for my entire career. This is no different.

I leave feeling more weary than I had when I arrived. 


	20. Secrets - Kip POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter on Easter because I'm really ready to get through this section. Happy Easter! Here's a little bit of fluff that wasn't in your basket. 
> 
> Don't forget that I also have a [Website](http://ryoko21.weebly.com/) that I use to put up stuff other than just stories. I'll try to do some more with it while I'm on hiatus, so check it out if you get a chance and let me know what you'd like to see there. I'm also on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ryoko21Fiction) on Twitter now and I've been on [Livejournal](http://ryoko21.livejournal.com/) forever. I mostly use the both of them for update alerts right now, but I've got a wealth of fanfiction recs on Livejournal if you're interested seeing what I've read over the last decade. 
> 
> If I haven't said it enough, please please let me know what you think of this fic. Kudos are great, comments are even better. Knowing people like this fic is really what keeps me motivated to write it, and of course I take any helpful criticism to heart and try to adapt. Thank you for your support! Hope you like it!

“Zero,” I call softly. He’s standing at the sink, halfway across the room, washing up the pots and pans from breakfast that are too large or too greasy for the automatic washer. I’m sipping a cup of tea at the table, my bare feet tucked under me on the chair. My shoes are beneath the chair, where I slipped them off, and it’s just nice to have a moment to breathe and relax. I’ve had a lot of those moments in the last two days, as Master Zeke has enforced the limits he set on my workload. Even now, with Zero doing the cleanup from breakfast, I feel like I should be doing something productive, but I know I’ll be scolded if I try.

“Hm?” he responds, turning toward me just enough to let me know that I have his attention. Zero is like that, I’ve found. Minimalistic in all ways, even in his responses and expressions. It’s not cold or distant, as it initially seemed. Zero just doesn’t waste energy on excessive displays.

“I just wanted to tell you… I wanted you to know how much I appreciate how nice you’ve been to me lately.” He scoffs, and maybe “nice” isn’t the right word, but he’s definitely been kinder to me. We’ve been friendly for the first time, sometimes just being in the same room together in quiet companionship. He’s been quick to remind me of the limits Master has set on my chores, and quicker still to pick up his half of the burden. We’ve been spending a lot of time together, sharing the Captain’s quarters while Master has moved into the Master’s Chamber on the upper floor.

I think that our time like this is limited. It seems likely that the solitude we’ve enjoyed is probably coming to an end today, as Master has instructed Zero to move our belongings upstairs into his room. The instigator of this change seems to be our sexual training. Master Zeke says we’ll start training today, since I’ve had a few days to recover and because we’ll be going on our first Leash excursion at the end of next week.

The idea of sexual training fills me with dread. Beyond the fact that it’s frightening in almost the same way as the submission training was, I don’t think I’m nearly as practiced sexually as Master is expecting. I don’t want to disappoint him again so soon after upsetting him so thoroughly that he doesn’t even want me in his bed, but there’s nothing I can do. I just have to hope that my limited training and experience will be enough to fool him into thinking I’m a practiced pleasure asset.

“It’s just,” I explain to Zero, “I was really hoping we could be friends when I came here. I’m glad, even if it’s been for a short time, that we’ve gotten to know each other. I’ve really enjoyed being with you.”

He turns to look at me, his hands still braced on the sink, soap suds sliding down his wrist.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, his voice sounding annoyed but I know that’s just how he is. Zero doesn’t mean anything by it, he just hates to be confused.

“I just…” I hesitate. I don’t want to upset him. Zero needs to perform tonight, too. Master Zeke has been training Zero to be a pleasure asset, so Master will certainly have expectations that Zero will need to meet. I don’t want to be the reason Zero angers Master Zeke, not again. “I just thought you should know, that’s all.”

“Lie,” Zero says flatly. “And not even a convincing one.” Then waits. I know from experience, as he sets his piercing gaze on me, that it’s hard to outlast his tenacity. It’s harder still because I don’t want to, because I’d really rather have someone to talk about this with. In the end, I’m always weak. I can’t help it, and I unburden myself to him.

“I don’t think that Master Zeke will be very pleased with my performance as a pleasure asset,” I blurt in a quiet voice. “I don’t think he’s going to want to keep me after this. I think… I think he might try to sell me.” Then I kick myself, because Zero doesn’t need to be burdened with my worries right now. It’s not fair to him. Sometimes, I think I’m not a very good friend to have.

Zero scoffs and turns back to the dishes.          

“He’s not going to get rid of you,” he says, and his voice is so nonchalant and confident that it’s hard not to believe him. “If you’re bad at sex, then he’ll work with you or put you on something else.”

“But… if he wants me to help teach you…”

“I don’t need help,” he says, but it’s not meanly, not this time. “I need him to stop handling me like glass.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I can’t imagine Master treating Zero like that, but then I also suppose Master has shown Zero a lot of attention and patience. I don’t know why Zero’s complaining about it, though.

“You shouldn’t worry,” Zero tells me, his attention back on the dishes. “Worrying will only distract you and hinder your performance. It won’t help.”

“You’re right,” I respond, though I’m actually thinking something closer to, “Well that’s not terribly helpful.”

          “He’s not the monster you think he is,” Zero continues. 

           “No,” I deny immediately. “I know. I don’t- I don’t think he’s a monster, he’s just…” A complete enigma to me? At once my savior and my jailor, who has given me no real idea of what my prison is to be like? At least with my last owner, the expectations were clear and when I couldn’t meet them any more he simply sold me. Zeke is a mass of contradictions, being in the role of someone I should fear and yet he seems to be taking pains to gain my trust. For what? I don’t understand, and thinking about it makes my head hurt in threat of a migraine. I finish lamely with, “...he’s just very powerful. It unnerves me.”

           “You don’t need to fear him. He’s trying to help you.”

           “Yes, I know,” I tell him, but I don’t think it’s as simple as that. I know Master Zeke wants something from me - you don’t purchase another human being unless you want something from them. It’s not an altruistic gesture, even if at first it might have been swayed by my tears. I’m grateful to Master Zeke for giving me this chance, but I don’t understand. Chance for what? He’s brushed off my skills as a domestic and he has to know that I’m not the most skilled pleasure asset, even if he probably doesn’t know just how unskilled I am. 

           Not knowing what Master wants from me makes me even more nervous. Before, I could assuage those nerves by burying myself in my work, but now Master has banned even that. I can’t help but feel that I am on my last chance, that my days might be numbered if I can’ convince Master that I’m worth keeping. I know he’s irritated that my recovery has faltered. I’ve ceased gaining weight and my stamina has plateaued, even though I’ve been eating and sleeping more. Perhaps my looks and my pathetic tears prevailed on him at first, but I don’t think that it will guarantee my continued place in his house. And now that he’s scaled back my workload, my only hope is to impress him with my questionable pleasure skills. So… It’s hopeless.

          Perhaps sensing my turmoil, Zero casts a quick glance at me before thankfully changing the subject. 

“Are you going to take a nap before you go up?” Zero prompts. He’s been doing this lately, pointing out what I should be doing without actually telling what to do.

“I don’t know, I was thinking about going out to the garden…” Zero gives me quick frown, reminding me that we both know that I’m not supposed to be out there right now, “…but I guess I could go lie down for a bit. Maybe read a book?”

He gives me an approving nod, then dries his hands on a dish towel and leaves the kitchen. I finish my tea and put my cup in the automatic washer. I’m tempted to go down to the garden as a small show of resistance, but I grab my tablet and curl up in the lounge instead. I find myself dozing almost immediately. Since Master moved up to the third floor, I’ve been sleeping just with Zero. Without Master as a buffer between us, I wake every time Zero gets out of bed, and that’s at least four times every night. Still, I’m spending more time sleeping, so I don’t feel quite as tired, but I definitely find myself dozing off more during the day.

Zero wakes me at lunch and brings me a sandwich. I’ve been banned from cooking lunches, so I put all the lunch meats and leftovers together in the kitchenette after dinner, so that Zero and Master could easily find them. My sandwich is two pieces of wheat bread with about an inch of sliced turkey meat in between, along with a slice of cheese and a single lettuce leaf. I don’t have the heart to tell Zero that he’s put too much meat on it. I just nibble on it and slowly slip the meat off to the side. I notice that Zero hasn’t even bothered with the cheese or lettuce on his own sandwich.

“Master wants us to meet him on the third floor in two hours,” Zero tells me, settling beside me on the couch to eat his sandwich.

“Did he get anything for lunch?” I ask in response. I don’t have the heart to ask anything about why we’re meeting. I just don’t want to think about it.

“He grabbed a cup of coffee while I was in the kitchen, but I didn’t see him take any food.”

“Do you think I should put something together for him?” I wonder. It’s a stretch of my ban from cooking lunches, but I don’t think Master will get upset if it’s just something quick. “I could take it up to him?”

“I don’t think he’d mind,” Zero says. He’s almost finished with his sandwich, which is normal for him. It’s not that he inhales his food so much as that he destroys his food with single-minded purpose. “I need to get back to training since Master said to clear the afternoon.”

I feel a thread of dread curl in my stomach at the reminder. If our lesson might take that long, I suppose I should make Master some lunch and then put something in the oven for dinner. I need something that can stay warm for a long time without damaging the integrity of the meal, so I decide on Mongolian beef over long-grain rice. An Asian slaw salad can stay cool until we’re ready to serve, so I put one together with sliced almonds and crunchy noodles. I decide to keep the Asian theme for dessert and put together a matcha cake with a sesame seed buttercream and coconut ice cream.  

While the cake is in the oven and icing is staying cool in the refrigerator, I put together a sandwich for Master. I want to keep it simple, since I’m not sure if he’s even hungry. I decide on a caprese grilled cheese with fresh tomatoes, basil leaves, and mozzarella grilled in a bit of olive oil. I make a quick tomato bisque on the side and put a tray together with a glass of fresh squeezed lemonade.

Master has a new office now, on the third floor and adjacent from the Master’s Chambers. Since most of the food has been moved up to the professional kitchen, I’ve been cooking all the meals there, so Master is just down the hall from where I am. There’s an imposing wooden door on the office, so I knock softly and hear an invitation to enter. Inside, Master is sitting at a large oaken desk, flat-topped and set against the wall. I know that the wall behind the desk serves as a holographic screen, but Master has already minimized his work, so that the wall simply looks like cream-colored wallpaper again. Master’s tablet, which is rarely far from his person, is lying screen-side-down on the desk already.

It isn’t odd that Master won’t show me what he’s working on, but I do think it’s a bit strange when he takes pains to hide it from me. Who would I tell? But then, perhaps Master is simply private by nature. I haven’t asked Zero if Master acts the same way with him.

I kneel in front of Master’s chair, holding the tray in front of me as an offering. I see Master’s lips turn down, but only for a moment before he hides it. I’d forgotten that Master doesn’t like me to act so formal when we’re in private, but with how unsettled things have been lately I’ve fallen back on old habits.

“Zero said you haven’t eaten, so I made you a sandwich, Master,” I offer.

“Thank you, Kip,” he responds, gesturing to the desk. I put the tray on the desktop without standing, and remain kneeling once it’s settled. “Did Zero tell you when to be ready?”

“Yes, sir. I still have a few preparations for dinner, and then I’ll be ready.”

“Good,” he says, and it’s a dismissal, so I rise as he says, “Thank you for lunch.”

I back out of the room quickly. It’s been like this between us lately. It doesn’t seem like Master is still angry at me, not really. More like there’s a distance between us that wasn’t there before. Master is wary of me, his trust in me shaken. I can’t blame him.

I sigh as I head slowly back toward the kitchen, the weight of my guilt heavy on my shoulders. What’s worse is that I’m still lying to him, still covering up the migraines that come and fade on a daily basis. It’s almost random now, the pattern at which I have them. I’ve been sleeping more and stressing less, but still the migraines pop up. I’ve been stealing pain patches to cover them, as the pills have ceased to touch all but the mildest headaches, and I cringe in fear every time I duck secretly into the medbay. I could explain my presence there by saying that I’m getting headache pills, but if Master catches me with a patch on…  Well, I can’t imagine he’ll be lenient this time.

What else can I do, though, when Master has basically told me that I’m only valuable when I’m healthy? If I can prove myself as a talented asset, then maybe I can dare to tell Master that my migraines have returned. Maybe. Even that idea seems like a stretch, since I was valuable to my last owner and he still sold me without a second thought.

I finish icing the cake and clean up the professional kitchen, leaving the dishes for Zero to do later. I’ve been cooking here, on the third floor, and then taking the food down to the kitchenette to eat with Zero. Master has been taking many of his meals in his room now, although he has joined us for breakfast both days and dinner one night. I have to wonder if he’ll want to start eating in the formal dining room soon? Will he want Zero and I to eat somewhere on this floor? In the kitchen, perhaps? Or maybe at his feet in the formal dining room? Master has been less formal with us in the past, but perhaps this change signifies the end of that leniency. It’s difficult to tell, with how distant Master is being.

When dinner is finished, I have a few moments left before I need to meet up with Zero. I can feel a slight headache starting behind my eyes and I know that I’m going to need to be one top of my form tonight, so I head down to the medbay. I check first, to make sure Zero is still occupied in the gym, but the glass window in the front shows him kicking a large, white dummy around the room, so I’m confident that he’ll stay put.

I walk quickly into the medbay and take a box of medical patches from the back of the cabinet. Two of the packs are already open, with all of their bristles worn off. I don’t know what’s more dangerous; trying to get rid of the empty packages or leaving them in the box. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s safer to keep the empty packs in their boxes and in the cabinet, rather than hoping Master won’t notice missing packs or empty boxes.

I open a new pack with trembling fingers, carefully pulling the paper off of the sticky part and setting it to the side. I’ve found, mostly by trial and error, that I can use a single patch at least four or five times if I only apply it for a few minutes at a time. The most common place to apply the patch is the back of the neck, but my hair won’t quite cover the red mark there well enough for me to dare using that location. I’ve found that it’s just as effective on the inner thighs, where it’s unlikely that anyone will notice the irritated skin. I can’t bank on that today, though, since Master will probably inspect me thoroughly during our sexual lesson.

Instead, I decide on putting the patch on my chest, underneath my arm, where hopefully the curvature of my body will help to hide it. I shrug out of my button-down shirt and hiss as I press the prickly patch against my sensitive flesh. I leave it there for only a few minutes before switching it to the other side, so that I’ll have similar marks on both sides, which will help camouflage the mark. I leave it on just until the tension eases from my shoulders and the pain fades from behind my eyes. I put the patch back in the wrapper, making sure to carefully reaffix the backing to the tape, and slip it back into the box and into the cabinet. I inspect the area under my arm and find that the flesh is just slightly pinkened. Hopefully it will fade soon, but even if Master does notice it, it simply looks like my clothes have been rubbing.

In the hall, I find Zero already showered and headed my way. Wordlessly, I fall into step beside him, both of us heading to meet Master upstairs for our first sexual lesson together. I can’t help the nervous tremor in my step, and it’s so pronounced by the time we reach the lift that Zero glances at me with concern.

“You’re going to be fine,” he tells me.

“Yes, of course,” I respond, but I don’t really believe it.

“Kip,” he says sternly, and grabs my wrist to make me look at him. The lift is moving and it feels like time is running out for me, but suddenly everything slows down. Zero’s steely gray eyes are trained on my face, his expression concerned and serious. It’s probably the most expressive I’ve seen him so far. His hand on my wrist is loose, and it slowly slips down until our palms are touching. “You’re going to be fine. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I believe him.

Suddenly, the fear that I’ve been feeling all day fades so suddenly that I almost sag in relief. I take a shaky breath and let my fingers intertwine with his. His hand is rough and calloused, but his grip is warm and gentle as it holds mine. I half expect him to pull away immediately, but he lets his grip linger. I take another shaky breath and give him a small smile.

“Okay,” I tell him softly. “I’ll do my best.”


	21. Sexual Preparations - Zeke POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have FOUR PEOPLE who volunteered to help me editing my works! Can you believe it? Holy cow! Akira, Deb, SiaB and LivyC will be joining InterpidEm and Ygrainne in helping me make this fic WAY more readable for you all. Thanks guys! Seriously, I appreciate it. 
> 
> Once again, we're nearing my hiatus, so if you haven't jumped over to my [Website](http://ryoko21.weebly.com/) you might miss out on some stuff while I'm not posting on here. (What that stuff will be, exactly, I'm not really sure about yet. Suggestions?)
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading! Please leave comments or kudos to let me know what you think. We're getting into the weird stuff, which is probably what attracted half you guys here in the first place. (At least, that's what I read fics for!) Thanks for sticking with it this far!

I give my assets two days to recover and resettle. It’s a big risk: It leaves me with just ten days to train them, and Zero has never been penetrated. At this rate, it will be impossible to even consider letting any other owners get close to them during The Line event. Even simple sexual acts could reveal them as untrained and untested. Instead, I’ll have to train them to perform together and with me, and hope that will be enough to convince the owners that both of them are talented and experienced.

I take the lunch tray that Kip brought me to the kitchen on this floor and leave the dirty dishes in the sink. I’m pleased to see that most of the dishes from dinner prep are still soaking, waiting for Zero to find them later. Among the chores that Kiplan has given up, washing all the dishes on his own has been the hardest habit to break him of. Once he recovers a bit, he’ll probably resume doing some, but for the time being I’d simply like him to build up some strength. I contemplate, once again, purchasing another asset to help Kip with the chores, or perhaps another pleasure asset so that Kip can focus solely on domestic tasks. For the moment, though, I have two pleasure assets with complimentary colors that I’d like to present. I need to focus on getting them prepared.

I grab a case of implements from the Playroom, knowing that I’ll probably need some toys and tools to help. Everything goes to the Master’s Chamber, where I have been sleeping alone for the past few nights while I let Zero and Kiplan have space to connect with each other. The bed in the Master’s Chamber is a semi-circular monstrosity. It has thick mattress on a sturdy frame, with a slim but ornate white oak headboard. I would find the simple elegance appealing if not for the overwhelming size. As it is, it looks almost more like a stage than a bed. Perhaps that’s the point of it. Regardless, it is large enough to sleep several adults without feeling cramped. Sleeping in it alone feels a bit like being in a padded room, and crawling to the center is a journey that I’ve yet to bother with.

A series of blue, gray, and white fabric strips that hang across the ceiling above the bed. It looks like the fabric pieces could easily be pulled down to create a curtain around the bed, although they are currently pulled up so that they only form the illusion of a curtain, without coming down far enough to get into the way. Each piece of shiny, translucent fabric runs through a thick hoop attached to the ceiling, and I eye them suspiciously. The hoops are far too thick for something as light as fabric, and I realize that they are designed to hold bondage restraints if I should decide to use them.

That’s not something I’m going to get into today, though. Instead, I throw a thick white sheet across the dark, royal blue coverlet, knowing that we might make a mess with the activities I’m planning. If things go well, we’ll all be too exhausted to want to clean up.

Zero and Kiplan arrive right on time, stepping through the massive wooden door side-by-side. I take a moment to look at them. Zero, with his short, spiky black hair and his dark, metallic eyes. His body has filled out well, giving him enough muscle tone to make him look lithe and deadly. Kiplan, by his side, has golden blonde hair, cut short but not nearly as short as Zero’s. There’s a natural wave to Kip’s hair that makes it look styled, and the wavy locks hang around his face nearly to his chin. Kiplan’s body is lean and narrow, looking even frailer standing next to Zero’s broader form. Kip’s eyes sparkle, the almost white-silver color contrasting with Zero’s metallic gray. Even their eyes have different shapes, with Zero’s mixed Asian heritage giving his eyes a slight narrowness, while Kip’s eyes are large and round, giving him a doe-eyed look. Kip’s skin is lighter than Zero’s, still looking milk-pale and accentuating Kip’s thin, delicate body. I don’t think I could have picked two more contrasting clones.

Zero stands with his body just a touch in front of Kip’s, blocking Kip’s form from me, and it hints that they’ve finally started bonding. The way Kip steps close to Zero, the way his hands reach for Zero’s before stuttering to a halt, confirms it. Now if I can just use that connection to get them to interact sexually, I might actually have a shot.

“Take off your clothes and get into the shower,” I instruct them. “I’m going to show you how to get ready for a sexual event.”

They nod and pad into the other room. I give myself a moment before I follow them, knowing that this is going to be a much more intensive lesson than I’ve done before. I have to remind myself that there’s no way around this; Zero is my show-piece and Kiplan has the necessary experience. I  _ have  _ to train them both, because they’ll do far better together than they would alone.

Knowing that it’s the best choice doesn’t make it any easier, though.

In the bathroom, all five of the showerheads are running, filling the room with a fine mist of steam. The room is done in dark grays and granites, with the shower walls imitating a natural rock formation. The  spray of water from the shower looks almost like a waterfall in this context, and the shower is deep enough that there’s no need for a curtain or door. Entering the room, I’m treated to the sight of my both assets glistening from the warm water. I put my clothes on a bench by the entrance and join them. Two sets of metallic eyes turn on me, both with varying levels of wariness. I ignore it. I don’t have time to coddle them any more than I already have.

“When we do an event with penetration, you’ll need more than the standard shower,” I explain. “You’ll need to be as clean as possible around your genitals. Kiplan is already free of hair, so there won’t be any need for grooming, but you, Zero, still have your pubic hair. I’m not interested in getting rid of it,” I explain, slowly reaching down to cup the testicles in question, “but you’ll need to make sure the hair is not overly thick or growing beyond your groin area.”

There’s a shelf in the wall of the shower, built into a recess so that it can only be seen from inside the shower. Kiplan moved my bathing products here and I have to admit that it’s been nice to have the proper amount of space for them. Not that I don’t know how to do without, but it’s certainly easier to have them all here instead of halfway across the room in the sink cabinet. I shuffle the bottles until I find a round, blue jar and pull it down. Behind it is a small device that resembles a handheld scanner, and I pull that down as well. I signal Zero to sit on one of the seats that are built into the shower’s walls - another thing that makes this easier.

“Pubic hair can be a sign of virility, dominance, and masculinity,” I tell him, kneeling in front of him and tapping the seat, so that he knows to bend his knees and put his heels on the seat beside him. He’s flexible and this isn’t the first time he’s been in this position, so he acquiesces immediately. He moves his tailbone to the edge of the bench, exposing his pucker and genitals to my gaze. Kip fades nervously into the background, watching with rapt, anxious attention.

I eye Zero’s body critically. With his Asian heritage, his body has very little hair as it is. The hair on his face has already been permanently removed, so I don’t have to contend with that. The hair on his legs is thin, silky, and very sparse, so I decide that we can skip that. There’s a very thin dusting of hair across his pectoral muscles, and I like the way it accentuates his chest, so I skip that as well. Finally, there’s a thin line of dark hair trailing down from his bellybutton, a sharp line that feeds into a triangle of dark pubic hair just above his cock. All of that can stay.

“It’s important,” I tell him, letting my fingers brush down the inside of his thigh, past his flaccid cock, to stroke his testicles, “if you still have pubic hair, to keep it artfully groomed. The testicles,” I point out, cupping his balls, feeling the few stray hairs on the mostly hairless flesh, “need to be completely hairless. It should just be soft, smooth skin under your fingers. The same with the skin behind your testicles and around your hole. There should also be no hair in the crease of your thighs. The hair here,” and my fingers stray to the patch of hair on the curve of his pelvis, “needs to be thinned and groomed into sharp lines, with no stray hairs. Now, pay attention, because I’m going to do this for you this time, but I expect you to take care of it in the future.”

 The cap comes off the jar of blue jell. I put some on my fingers, cover his testicles, his perineum, and around his anus. More goes in the crease of his thighs, then along the triangle of hair that points toward his belly button, with the bottom stopping only an inch above the base of his cock.

“This light activates the gel, which causes the roots of the hair to shrivel and the hair itself to fall out of the follicle. It’s temporary, it won’t kill the hair follicle permanently, but removes the hair without leaving any unsightly stubble. And,” I offer with a smile, “it’s less painful than waxing.”

Zero snorts, because that’s the least important aspect in his opinion. I pick up the light and aim the flat part toward the gel. It puts a red bar of light on his skin, which I run over the blue gel.

“It doesn’t matter how long you leave the light on the gel,” I inform him. “It activates immediately and then does nothing. The gel also won’t burn you if you leave it on, but it might irritate the skin so I recommend washing it off. To thin out hair,” I tell him, moving my fingers to the triangle of hair on his pubic bone, “simply use a very small amount and comb it through.” I only need to use a drop of gel, since I don’t want to thin the hair too much. I run the light over it, then run my fingers through to make sure it has the proper density. I’m happy with it, so I pull back and signal Zero to stand and step under the spray.

When the water has washed away the stray hairs, I eye him critically again, but I’m happy with the results. His grooming is very similar to my own, although I’ve had to leave the patch of hair at my pelvis a bit wider and a bit thicker than Zero’s, as my hips are broader and my blonde hair naturally seems less dense. I also generally have to groom my chest hair, as my body has a wider swathe of hair across my pectoral muscles.

          “Kiplan has it easy,” I admit, turning to the other resident blonde. His skin, pale and completely devoid of hair except for the top of his head, glistens in the water. “Being completely hairless is actually much easier to maintain, but with skin this pale you still need to check for blemishes, as you don’t have any hair to cover the imperfections.” I run my hand down Kip’s chest, and I see the smaller man swallow, but he doesn’t pull away. “Thankfully, your skin isn’t prone to acne or splotches. Still, you should make a quick check right before you plan to attend an event. Warm water will bring out any imperfections, and then some quick make-up can cover them.”

          I have Kip raise one leg and then the other so I can do a quick inspection of his thighs, then he turns around so I can inspect the back of his body. He bends over when I press him, letting me inspect his ass and the back of his thighs. Finally, I have him raise his arms and complete the circle, turning back toward me and enduring my inspection of his neck and face. There’s a little bit of redness under his arms, probably where his clothes are chafing when he sweats, but otherwise his skin is flawless. There’s not a stray hair on him, nothing but smooth, bare skin.

          “What about…” Zero says hesitantly, and there’s such a strange tone to his voice that my head snaps around to look at him. He trails off, but then I see him steel himself and he asks, “What about my scars?”

          “Turn for me,” I instruct, putting my attention back on Zero. He pivots slowly on the balls of feet, giving me time to look over the multitude of scars painting his form. His torso houses the majority of them, mainly across his back and chest. The most arresting is the pulse-gun scar on his left hip, but there are other slashes and scars all across him, even a few decorating his arms and legs.

          When he finally faces me, I meet his eyes steadily and run my fingers along the battered skin on his chest. “Your scars add depth and interest to your look. They create a history and a story to your body just from a glance. They prove that you’re a survivor, that you’re dangerous. They in no way detract from your beauty. We will not be doing anything to cover or hide them. That would make them look like a weakness, which they aren’t. They’re a strength.”

          My fingers trail a gentle line across his shoulder and up his neck, until I’m cupping his chin and turning him to look at me. The skin of his face is smooth and undamaged, none of the scars have hit above his collarbone. His metallic eyes watching me curiously. “I’m just glad no one’s ever marked this lovely face.”

          He brows knit in confusion, his head cocking slightly to the side.

          “They did.”

          “What do you mean?” I wonder.

          “My trainers removed the scars on my face because they would make me too noticeable,” he explains, then holds up his hands for my inspection. “They removed these ones as well, so it would be harder to guess my profession.”

          I hadn’t even considered that. The surgery to remove scar tissue is painful but not extremely expensive. I’d only considered it a vanity item in this case, since Zero’s body already had so much scarring. It would have made sense, though, to use it sparingly to hide scars that might otherwise attract attention. Damn. I hadn’t even thought to ask.

          “Do you want to have the scars removed?” I find myself saying. Zero shrugs, his expression remaining neutral.

          “They don’t bother me,” he explains. “I’ve never really cared what they look like, and the scars don’t diminish my capabilities. If they attract attention – the kind of attention you want – then I’m fine with keeping them.”

          “Alright,” I acknowledge easily, “but keep in mind that if any start to bother you, we could remove them.”

          He gives another short nod of acceptance and I step back out of his space. I take one more look at the two assets in front of me; Kip’s smooth, slim body and Zero’s more muscular form, with the dusting of hair that we’ve left bringing my eyes across his pectoral muscles and down his defined abs, straight to his average sized but shapely cock. I survey my work with some pride, giving them a quick smile of satisfaction.

          So much for the easy part.

           I give myself a moment to get my head around what I need to do. What I’m showing them, what I’m teaching them, it’s important. I won’t have them thrown into sex with no guidance about what’s going to happen. I can’t let them seem untrained, but I also wouldn’t do that to them. It would be too cruel to send them in, untried and unprepared, and expect them to do anything but panic. I’ll be lucky if one of them doesn’t panic anyway.

           My eyes find Kip and he’s shifting uneasily in the warm spray. His nervousness has returned. I almost forgot that he has been trained as a pleasure asset, so he knows what’s coming next as well. I turn down the water on the showerheads so that there’s just a trickle running down the walls. The floor is heated and keeps the shower from feeling chilly, even without the water running. I nod to Kip as I put away the hair remover and select another jar from the ledge.

           “Hands and knees,” I instruct, and the look on his face can only be described as reluctant, but he goes down without protest in the center of the shower. Zero steps back, but he’s watching Kiplan and seems concerned about these proceedings.

           “Do you know what’s coming next?” I ask him, and he nods.

           “Yes, sir,” he tells me, squeezing his eyes shut.

           I kneel behind him, and he accommodatingly opens his legs, making it easier for me to get to his pink entrance. The jar in my hands contains a simple, clear lubricant. I take a generous amount on my fingers and smear it into Kiplan’s hole. Kip whimpers as I slip a finger inside him. His hole clenches spasmodically around my finger until he eventually manages to relax.

           I only give him one finger before he’s stretched enough for my needs. I can prepare him more fully when we move to the bedroom, since he’ll probably tighten up again before then.

           “Stay,” I tell Kip softly, then get up and pad out of the shower. Some of the items I need wouldn’t fit on the shelf, so I have them sitting on the sink. I grab the whole group of items and move them into the shower, settling them on one of the benches. Kiplan is still on his knees, his eyes following my movements miserably.

           “It’s not that bad,” I tell him gently. In my hands, I’ve got a slim length of tubing. One end hooks to a small valve at the base of the shower. Halfway down that side of the tube is a flat, circular disc somewhat resembling a stopwatch. The other side has a small, round bead placed roughly six inches from the end of the tube. The bead is roughly as thick as my thumb, about the size of a large marble.

           Kip is unresisting as I feed the slim tubing into his body. He shudders as the bead hits his entrance and stretches him open to accommodate its girth. I give him a second to adjust to the sensation, my hand running soothing circles on his back.

           “Sit up for me,” I guide, helping him to shift so that he’s sitting up, with his weight on his hip. “I want to show you this,” I offer, pointing toward the blue disk at the other end. “This controls the water flow. Just press this button, and it’ll start the flow of water. It controls how quickly the water flows based on the tension in your body, slowing it if you tense to keep the pressure from hurting you. It will automatically shut off and beep once, then it will beep twice when it’s finished. Do you understand? This item makes this process almost completely automated.”

           “Yes, sir,” he says, but he doesn’t sound enthused. I sigh and pat his hand compassionately.

           “Try to relax,” I advise. “You can lie down now. On your side will probably be the most comfortable. That’s right, now pillow your head on your arm. Good. I’m going to start the water now. It will go slowly, but there might be some discomfort.”

           Kip cringes as the water starts, but otherwise he simply lies on the floor and stares at the far wall. Zero is still watching our progress, uncertain but thankfully not trying to intervene.

           Several minutes pass. Kiplan curls on his side, shivering even in the warmth of the shower. The heat from the water inside him should be warming him, relaxing him, but he’s so tense and nervous that it’s not helping. I run my hands down his sides, across his stomach, over his back. On the other side of the room, I can see Zero tensing, upset. A sweat breaks out on Kip’s skin. We’re getting close to the end, but the last bit is always the hardest. Kiplan whimpers, and then Zero is kneeling in front of him. He touches Kip’s shoulder and shoots me a dark glare. I don’t like that he’s challenging me, but then I suppose I made this monster, didn’t I?

           “I’m not hurting him,” I deny.

           “Certainly seems like it,” Zero retorts. I open my mouth to argue, but Kip beats me to it.

           “I’m alright, Zero,” he says softly. I can see his body sweating, trembling. His face is pale and pinched. “It’s just uncomfortable.”

           Zero nods and settles, Kip’s assurances easing his mind far more than mine had. I remind myself, again, that I wanted this to happen. I need them to be closer to each other than to me. This was always the plan.

           Finally, the monitor beeps and the water automatically shuts off. We sit for several minutes, Zero sitting cross legged in front of Kip and me kneeling behind his back. I rub Kip’s stomach, sometimes firmly but sometimes softly enough to just to stroke along his skin, soothing him. Zero leans close, whispers something to the blonde, but I can’t hear it.

           Eventually, the timer gives up two beeps. Under my hand, I feel Kip give a sigh of relief. I turn the valve off and disconnect the hose, letting it trail along his leg. The bead inside him won’t allow the water to flow back out. Kiplan is already sitting up, getting unsteadily to his feet.

           “You can release in here or…”

           “Not here,” he begs. “Please, Master!”

           “That’s fine,” I assure him. “There’s a bathroom through that door. Pull the hose out when you’re ready.”

           I watch Kiplan’s hurried, shuffled steps until the door shuts firmly behind him. I give a sigh, knowing that at least this part of the process is half-done.

           Zero shoves his way in front of me. In a moment, he’s on his knees, his legs spread wide, his arms folded and crossed, his chin propped on them. His body is loose, and when he flicks his gaze back at me his eyes are bored and impatient.

           “I’m ready,” he tells me. There’s no hint of nervousness in his voice. If anything, he seems annoyed that I haven’t started already.

           “Alright,” I respond, and reach for the lube. It slides along my fingers as I raise them to Zero’s hole. “I just need to stretch you and then…”

           “I saw you do this with Kip,” Zero cuts in, “I don’t need it explained again.”

           “I just thought it might help to calm you if I explained…”

           “I’m not nervous,” he argues, and I’m knuckle deep in his ass, so I have a fairly reliable idea that he’s not lying. “Just get it over with.”

           I don’t respond. I have another set of tubing – this one with a red monitor so I don’t confuse the two – and connect it to the water valve. The tubing slips into him easily, the bead goes with the slightest resistance. As soon as it’s in, Zero drops to his side, his head still pillowed on his arms.

           “I’m going to start the water now,” I warn him, and he shrugs in response. He gives the barest shiver when the water starts flowing, but otherwise he seems nearly unaffected by these proceedings.

           Kiplan comes back in then, smiling slightly and looking much more relaxed. I point him to toward the back corner and say, “Go ahead and rinse off. There’s a detachable showerhead in the corner, rinse yourself out again and then come sit down.”

           He nods and moves off to the corner. The shower is large enough that I can only see Kip’s outline, partially obscured by fog as he turns up one of the showerheads. He lets the water run from the top as he takes down a different showerhead, and I see movements that lead me to believe that he’s following my instructions. Not that I had any doubt.

           When he’s finished, his skin wet and warm from the water, he makes his way back over to us and kneels in front of Zero, his fingers gently carding through Zero’s hair. I rub at Zero’s back and stomach in the same way I did Kiplan’s, but Zero just huffs in annoyance when my touches turn light and soothing. I try to keep it professional; firm, deep massages to his back and lower stomach. He tolerates it better, but I can tell that he’d rather be left alone.

           At length, Zero asks me, “How often will I need to do this?” with an undertone that tells me he’d rather not do it at all. I catch Kiplan staring at me, also waiting for an answer.

           “It shouldn’t be that often. Once you’re trained, probably only when you’re going to be displayed for other Owners.”

           “You don’t…” Kip starts hesitantly, then cuts himself off.

           “Don’t what?” I prompt.

           “You don’t want us doing this every morning?”

           “I’d rather not unless it’s necessary,” I tell him honestly. “It’s not good for your health to do this that often.”

           He nods then, and I can tell he’s relieved by the news. I hadn’t even thought to address that, but then I hadn’t considered the standards that other Owners might have. We slip into a comfortable silence as we wait for Zero to finish.

           Minutes pass. A lot of minutes. I realize, at length, that it’s taking a lot longer this time. I glance at the monitor, shifting the tube and making Zero give me a quick glare. The monitor has slowed the water to a trickle. This has happened, I realize, because Zero’s abdominal muscles are too strong to be tensed at all.

           “You have to relax.”

           “I am relaxed.”

           “No, you have to relax the muscles in your abdomen. You’re too tense for your stomach to expand to accommodate the water.”

           He contemplates that for a moment, then says, “Okay.” I see him shift and take a deep breath. His shoulders slump. The water, however, moves at the same pace.

           “Zero…”

           “I know,” he growls, and shifts again. It yields the same results. He moves to the other side, and I see his shoulders tense as frustration gets the best of his temper. Which isn’t going to help much at all.

           “Up,” I tell him calmly.

           “What?”

           “Hands and knees again,” I explain. He shifts, making uncomfortable, pained sounds as he clambers to his knees. He keeps his arms straight this time, his back arched slightly upwards with the pain.

           “Now what?” he asks me, but his voice is more uncertain than it is antagonistic. He doesn’t like things being changed, doesn’t like the way I’m deviating from the plan I used with Kiplan.

           “I want you to focus,” I tell him, rubbing my hand along his lower stomach. I can feel his solid abs under my fingers, and realize that this is probably the first time they’ve ever been more of a hindrance than a benefit. “Try to isolate these muscles and relax them. If you need to, just focus on pushing your stomach out so that it can make the accommodation.”

           I see him trying immediately, his back sloping downward and his stomach moving as he takes deep breaths and tries to relax. The water starts moving more quickly and he makes a pained noise. I see a shiver run through him and I gently rub his lower back. I see Kiplan lean close and press their foreheads together.

           It goes faster, after that. When the first beep comes, I’m able to let Zero lie on his side again, which helps with the discomfort. By the time I hear the second set of beeps, Zero is breathing deeply and in no signs of distress. He rises quickly enough when I disconnect the hose, though, and moves carefully over to the bathroom.

           I stand and turn the showers back up to full blast. I give myself a quick rinse and then tell Kiplan to wait for Zero and help him finish up. Kiplan nods as I exit the shower, moving into one of the forced-air dryers because it’s quicker, then heading into the bedroom to make sure I’m ready.

           I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for this.  


	22. Toying With Zero - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! You're all getting this a day early because I'm going to see a live performance of Welcome To Night Vale tomorrow. (It's my new weird pleasure.) Akira, Deb, SiaB, LivyC, InterpidEm, and Ygrainne have all been giving this fic a good workover, so it should look absolutely gorgeous for your reading pleasure. Really, they're all completely amazing. 
> 
> Once again, please leave comments or kudos if you like (or don't like) what you're seeing. I try to respond to everyone in a timely-ish manner. And if you get a chance, check out my [Website](http://ryoko21.weebly.com/), which I will still be updating with some (hopefully) fun stuff while I'm on hiatus working on the next section. Also, I'm starting to look for ideas of what that "fun stuff" could be. Blogs? More Original Fic Recs? Fanfic Recs? Polls? As I near my hiatus, I should have some extra time to work on my website, so I'd like to know what kind of content would be most interesting to my audience. (Yes, I know, new chapters would be the MOST interesting, but in the meant time. Lol.) So any input would be appreciated. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Zero and Kiplan enter the bedroom single file, with Kiplan just a step behind Zero. As they approach, I don’t give myself time to hesitate. I gesture to Zero, who steps toward the bed even as Kiplan falls back nervously, folding his hands in front of him and giving Zero fearful glances.

“Get in position,” I order. Zero gives a short nod and climbs on the bed. He positions himself on his hands and knees with his legs splayed wide and his shoulders dropped to the mattress, just like I’ve shown him in previous lessons. Like always, he looks stunning - like an ancient Roman sculpture. Only the crisscrossing scars remind me that he is painfully, beautifully human.

I slick my fingers with lube and press a single digit into his willing hole. I don’t have to go slow, since he’s already stretched from the shower. Almost immediately, I add a second finger, and then a third. I give him some time to adjust to this, first twinning my fingers tightly and then slowly spreading them to stretch him.

On the bed, Zero is quiet and still. It’s the same reaction I get every time I’ve filled him with fingers or toys. Never have I gotten so much as a buck of his hips or a twitch from his cock, but he takes the attention so easily that sometimes I think he might have fallen asleep. Because he hasn’t shown any interest, I haven’t pushed him to play with himself while I stretch his hole. If being filled is something that repulses him, it’s unlikely he’ll be able to get an erection while someone is fucking him. I don’t know if it’s a requirement that the asset be aroused while being penetrated, but I know it looks better when it happens that way. I could give him libido enhancers, but I’m afraid of what that would do to his already-stressed body. Perhaps I can gently coax his mind into forming a link between orgasm and penetration.

His face is turned to the side, and I glance up to find him sloe-eyed and relaxed, his breathing deep and even. Penetration is like a switch that turns off the normally intense, competitive Zero and makes him this calm, compliant, new person beneath my fingers. I wonder if this is simply Zero’s way of enduring something so intimate and uncomfortable when he’s unable to use his original training. His cock isn’t hard, but neither is he shying away from my fingers, so I know that the pain isn’t affecting him.

My hand goes into the box beside the bed and comes back with a large, obnoxiously red dildo. It’s one of the few items on this ship that I didn’t personally purchase, as it isn’t something I would typically use. At a full five inches, it’s a strange amalgam of dildo and plug. It has a groove and a flared base, so that it can be seated as a plug and forgotten. The shape is closer to the general outline of a cock, with a somewhat flared head and a gently increasing width down the length of it. It’s nearly as large as a normal cock, although it’s quite a bit smaller than mine. Still, I think that it’s a good training tool for someone as inexperienced as Zero. I’ve never dealt with a virgin in this situation before. I want to ease him into it quickly but without unnecessary trauma.

From the corner, I hear Kiplan give a startled gasp, but I spare no attention for him. Neither does Zero, whose breathing is still deep and eyes unfocused. I rub a thick layer of lubricant around the bulbous head of the dildo, and it glistens lewdly. Red is not a color I traditionally choose for my implements. Beyond the fact that it hides blood dangerously well (not that there’s any risk of that tonight, with how careful I’m being) it also tends to give even vanilla acts an unnecessary sense of perversion. Still, I suppose it will suffice for my purposes.

The bulbous red tip looks almost too real as I slide it against Zero’s hole, teasing his entrance. The semi-rigid, glossy plastic is easy to work with, being slightly stiffer than a normal cock but still having enough flexibility to bend with the natural curves of Zero’s body. It encounters almost no resistance as I push it inside Zero’s accommodating hole. Zero gives a slight shiver, but that’s all the reaction I get as I slowly sink the toy inside. I give him a couple inches, then tease the dildo back out, and then slip it in further. Gently, I open Zero’s body and finally, after several minutes, seat the dildo fully inside. The flat base settles against his entrance, nearly disappearing as it flattens against his skin.  

           With the plug seated, I reach between Zero’s legs and give a languid stroke to his member, testing his interest. I’m hoping for at least some indication of arousal, but his flesh is soft between his legs. When I touch him, he jerks like he’s been stung and gives a sound that’s half pained cry, half desperate whimper. His cock starts to engorge immediately, rising between his legs even as he pulls away from me. What the hell?

“Master,” he begs, “I won’t be able to keep control if you do that.” I can hear pain in his voice from admitting to weakness, but what weakness is he talking about?

“Control what?” I wonder. He gives me a puzzled look in return.

“My reaction.”

“What about it?”

“I won’t be able to stop myself from becoming erect.”

“You won’t be…” Ugh, fuck my own stupid brain. I’ve fucked things up with him again. “Have you been stopping yourself from getting hard?”

“Of course,” he says offhandedly. He’s distracted by our conversation, so his cock is fully hard and bobbing against his abdomen. “Isn’t that the problem? Isn’t that why you never touch my cock when you’re playing with my hole? I don’t understand. Don’t you want me to keep the two separate?”

“No! Zero, I never…” I cut myself off and take a moment to breathe. I’m not going to help the situation if I’m irritated at myself and taking it out on Zero. 

            “What would make you think that I don’t want you to be aroused when I penetrate you?” I ask, keeping my voice even and neutral. He sits back, his legs folded under him, and looks at me quizzically. 

“Because you never touched my cock when you did it. I thought it was a reward or something I wouldn’t be allowed to do when you penetrated me with your cock. I thought it was part of my training. Am I not supposed to keep my pleasure and my Master’s pleasure separate?”

               “No,” I tell him gently. Damn it, this is just another place that I’ve screwed up with Zero. Maybe not irreparably, though. “I never meant to give you the impression that you should be suppressing your reactions. If I want to control your orgasm, I will take control of it. I don’t want you making these decisions on your own. I don’t ever want you to hide your reactions from me when we’re alone. I need you to be honest with me. Do you like being filled?”

            “Yes,” he replies unhesitantly. 

            “Do you understand that there may be times that I ask you to restrain yourself from getting hard or orgasming?”

            “Yes.”

            “Would you like to continue with what we were doing?”

               “Yes,” he answers immediately. He’s still on his knees, and he settles his head and shoulders back against the bed, waiting for further instructions. With just a few strokes, his cock hanging heavy and hard between his legs. It presents a completely different image than only a few moments ago. Where that image had been about submission, this one speaks only of lust. The base of the plug just barely shows at this angle, and I lick my lips and tug softly on the plug’s base. Zero makes a gasp and a moan as I pull it out a few inches and then slowly bury it back inside him.

“Tell me how it feels inside of you. Explain to me why you like this,” I demand, “so that I know you’re not lying for my benefit.”

“I don’t know,” he says, and there’s a tremble in his voice that I have a hard time disbelieving. His hands clutch at the bed sheet, but he can’t seem to find the words. “I just…” He hisses as I shift the plug again, his cock bobbing eagerly between his legs.

“Touch yourself,” I instruct, and his hand goes immediately to his cock. I see his body shudder in pleasure and let a small smile find its way to my lips.

“It’s easier,” he explains breathlessly, his hand still stroking his own member, “to accept pleasure like this. The stretch of it… it’s like when I exercise, when I push my body to the brink. There’s pain, but it feels good as well.”

I should have guessed that Zero would find pleasure easier to accept when combined with something more familiar to him, like the pain of stretching his body too far. Zero’s enjoyment of the pain/pleasure mix is an advantage that we’re sorely in need of, with how behind both men are in their sexual training. This new fact will make Zero’s training go much more smoothly.

Watching the base of the plug pop in and out of Zero’s hole and seeing the vulgar red plastic disappear into his dusky tan entrance is more erotic than I expected. He moans as I twist the plug inside him, and I feel my own body growing interested. I suppress the physical response, knowing that Zero isn’t quite ready for that yet, but I still feel the lust burning hot in my stomach. How desperately I’d like to replace the plastic inside him, to feel his hot body clench around my shaft. Sadly, my length is nearly twice that of the toy inside him, and my girth is considerably larger as well. I fear that the pain of accommodating my manhood would be too much for Zero’s untried body. 

“Does it feel good to have this thickness in you?” I ask him huskily. “To feel it move inside of you?”

“Yes, Master,” he says, and his voice is just as deep and hoarse as my own. I pull my hand away from the plug. The temptation is there to keep playing with it, but Zero is already writhing in pleasure. I don’t want to push this torment into an actual punishment, so I lean close until my lips are close enough to whisper into Zero’s ear.

“Would you like Kiplan to suck you off?” I ask him. His pupils dilate and his breathing becomes harsher as he nods eagerly. I grin despite myself, so pleased that Zero is actually finding pleasure in the act of bottoming, when I’d been so concerned that he merely tolerated it.

I turn my attention to Kiplan, who’s still in the corner, his hands clasped submissively in front. He’s looking at Zero and smiling shyly, not nervously, so I decide that it’s safe to proceed. I don’t want to force a sexual encounter between these two, but I also need them to get comfortable interacting sexually. I suppose it’s better now, like this, than later. I motion for Kip to approach even as I tap Zero on the hip and signal for him to flip over.

Then I step back, eager to see what the two of them will do together.

Zero flips to his back and pushes himself further up the bed, giving Kiplan room to crawl up. Kiplan smiles at Zero, while Zero throws back an expression that is more lustful than joyous. Kiplan lies on his belly, his head nestled between Zero’s thighs. It puts Zero’s dripping and purplish cock directly in Kip’s face. Kip licks the shaft, just the tip of his tongue running from the middle up to the glistening crown, and Zero shivers. His hands jerk up and reach for Kiplan, but stop just inches from his shoulders. Zero’s hands fall back to the bed a moment later and it’s a good choice on his part. If Zero had taken a grip on Kiplan, I would have intervened. With Zero’s strength and his strong reactions to orgasm, there’s too high of a chance that he could accidentally hurt Kip.  

Zero keeps his hands fisted in the blankets, even when Kiplan sucks the head of his cock into his warm, sweet little mouth. I suppress a grin at the shocked expression on Zero’s face, the way his body jerks and he throws his head back with a soundless scream. The plug is still seated in Zero’s ass, and Zero seems content to leave it alone. I’m not surprised that the stimulation of having it inside him is enough to satisfy him at this point, considering he’s never had anything so large inside him before. I toy with the idea of joining them and playing with the plug, but it would probably be too much stimulation and I don’t think Zero will last long anyway.

On the bed, Kiplan is proving himself more than proficient with his oral skills. It might help that Zero is such an enthusiastic participant. Kiplan takes half of Zero’s cock into his mouth and Zero goes to reach for Kip again, but then stops himself a second time. His hand goes, instead, to his own mouth, where he bites down on the skin between his wrist and thumb. The movement draws my attention and I move in closer to watch, but Zero is careful not to draw blood. Still, his enjoyment of the plug and then his instinctive reaction now make me wonder. Latent masochistic tendencies? Or perhaps he simply needs to balance pain and pleasure evenly? It’s something I’ll need to explore later.

My prediction about how long Zero will last is proving itself true, and Kiplan and I both notice the way his cock goes rigid and his hips thrust helplessly. Kip’s hand moves to the base of Zero’s cock, supporting my theory that Kip has done this before. That’s something I’ll have to train out of Kip, though, as it’s a fear-based response that shows a novice level of skill. The hand helps keep control of the cock and keeps the recipient from choking the fellatio-giver, but it’s a beginner mistake. It shows much more skill to be able to move with the recipient and deep-throat the cock if necessary. But I can train him on that later. Zero has already mastered the ability to take my entire cock orally, and I doubt he’ll encounter many larger than mine. With Kip’s experience, he should learn more quickly than Zero.

Kip’s got good instincts, though, I’ll give him that. He manages to read Zero’s body language to keep his hands light on Zero’s skin, his mouth teasing more than sucking. Kip pulls back until only the head of Zero’s cock is in his mouth, Kip’s hands keep working the length as Zero’s orgasm hits him. Zero makes a guttural, broken noise, his fingers clutching at the mattress, his heels digging into the bed as his back arches. His eyes go wide and his mouth hangs open in a silent scream. Kiplan hangs on to Zero’s hips, sucking down every drop of Zero’s come and then licking his cock clean. Finally, Zero’s orgasm drops him and his body collapses to the bed, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

I give him a few moments to recover before I move to his side, stroking the bangs away from his forehead to get his attention. He turns his fevered gaze on me, his face lax and seeming almost drugged. His lips quirk in a small, sated smile.

“Kiplan did a good job,” I compliment, glancing to where the blonde man is resting his head on Zero’s thigh. “Don’t you think he deserves a kiss?”

              Zero’s smile turns predatory, and he reaches down to grab Kip’s arms, pulling the other man up until they’re face-to-face. Zero’s hand goes into Kip’s hair, but he gently draws the blonde down until their lips meet. The kiss that I’ve orchestrated is surprisingly tender. Neither man deepens the kiss, so it ends up being a delicate press of lips together. I can’t bring myself to break the moment happening between them, this sweet expression of affection that they’ve so recently found for each other. Instead, I let them kiss for several seconds, until they part naturally on their own. 

When they do pull back, I slide onto the bed next to them. Kip has his hip beside Zero, their legs tangled together. I slide in on the other side, trapping Kip between the two of us. Kip throws me a wary glance but doesn’t back away. I see Zero’s arms pull him incrementally closer, though. Zero must be able to feel Kip’s tension. Despite all the work I’ve done with him, Kip is still nervous around me. Maybe today will finally show him that he doesn’t need to be afraid of me. 

            “Kiss him deeper,” I instruct Zero. “Show him what I’ve taught you.”

            Kip turns his head back toward Zero, and this time there’s nothing gentle or slow about the kiss. Zero presses their faces together, and I see a peek of his tongue as it slips across Kip’s lips, demanding entrance almost immediately. Kip makes a noise of surprise and opens his mouth - a movement that I’m not entirely sure was on purpose. Zero seizes the advantage, though, pushing his tongue into Kip’s mouth and sealing their lips together. In a moment, Kip melts into embrace, closing his eyes and leaning forward. I can see Zero deepening the kiss, can even catch the moment when Kip’s tongue darts out to delve into Zero’s mouth. Zero pulls back, and I catch a glimpse of their intertwined tongues before Kip chases after him, sealing their mouths again. 

            “Very nice,” I compliment as they pull apart. I reach my hand over Kip’s form and cup Zero’s cheek, drawing him toward me. Kiplan leans back and out of the way while Zero leans in. His lips are still wet from Kiplan’s mouth, and it’s almost like I can taste Kip still on Zero’s lips. I push my tongue into his mouth, familiar enough with Zero’s body that I don’t need to wait for permission. His mouth opens to me, and I push my tongue in to plunder the places that Kip has already been. There’s something heady about being the second person here, about having his mouth when his lips are already swollen and slippery from his messy kiss with Kip. 

            There’s something heady, too, about putting my mark on something that I consider mine. I lap at Zero’s mouth, putting my taste over top of Kip’s. But it isn’t enough to simply taste Kip on Zero’s lips, and after a moment of deep kissing met with Zero’s eager and enthusiastic participation, I turn my attention to Kip. 

            The blonde clone is lying on his back between us, his silver eyes sparkling and his pupils dilated with interest. There’s still a wary air about him, but there’s no way to hide his interest with his naked body trapped between mine and Zero’s. I lean over him and his shoulders tense, but he doesn’t shy away. His eyes meet mine. I can see apprehension and interest warring in them, and I take the decision out of his hands. I don’t deepen the kiss as quickly with Kip, given that he’s still nervous with me. I press our lips together, giving him a moment to prepare himself before pressing my tongue into his mouth. His lips part easily for me, obviously aware of my intentions from watching my kiss with Zero. 

              Kip’s lips, too, are red and swollen from Zero’s aggressive kiss, and I like the feel of Zero’s passion in Kip’s mouth. I can taste a faint hint of salt and remember that Kip’s mouth was wrapped around Zero’s cock only minutes ago. The taste of Zero’s cum on Kip’s tongue and the image of Zero plundering Kip’s mouth for his own seed sends a spike of lust through me. I find myself hungry for more. My tongue pushes deeper into his mouth, lapping up their combined taste. 

              As we kiss, my hand glides over Kip’s chest and comes to rest at his hip. I can feel his cock start to show an interest, nudging gently at my wrist where my arm crosses his body. By the time I pull away, Kip’s eyes have slipped shut and his cock is half hardened just from the attention of my mouth on his lips. 

              On the other side, Zero is still watching us intently. His eyes are lustful, but his cock has yet to regain its interest. That’s fine, though, as I intend for him to play the voyeur for the rest of the encounter. Between us, Kip is still lying on his back, his breathing quick and shallow, his eyes half-lidded and his cock slowly gaining an interest. I think it’s time Zero removed himself from the equation. I meet Zero’s eyes and nod toward the sofa along the wall. I’d like for Zero to watch from a distance and maintain availability in case his services are needed. Ideally, though, this will be a learning experience for my former-combat asset.

              Kip’s eyes turn to watch as Zero leaves the bed, a hint of apprehension returning to his face as Zero moves across the room. When Zero settles just beyond the bed, Kip relaxes again and turns his attention back to me. Nervously, he smiles, his hands fluttering uncertainly at his sides. 

              I run my eyes along his lean, pale form. His cock is still small and only half-aroused, nestled between his closed thighs. One leg is raised slightly, his foot pressed flat against the bed. His hands come to my shoulders as I move myself between his thighs, and one of his slim legs wraps around my hip. I can feel his small foot curved against my lower back. Pressing my chest against his, careful to keep most of my weight on my knees and arms, I smile down at him. 

So far, it’s been a very promising evening. 


	23. Penetrating - Kip POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally starting to get warm in my area and, though I have absolutely no interest in going outside, it's still nice not to have to face the frigid chill every time I go to my car. I hope everyone else's area is becoming an appropriate temperature for them! :)
> 
> Once again, I can't thank my beta team enough for helping me look this fic over. Akira, Deb, SiaB, LivyC, InterpidEm, and Ygrainne are all doing a great job for me and I really appreciate it. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think by leaving me comments or kudos. (Even if you hate me for where I let this chapter end.) I really appreciate all of them, and I try to respond to as many as possible. Thanks for reading!

           Master Zeke is poised above me, his larger body pinning mine down without crushing me under his weight. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Zero’s silhouette on the divan against the wall. It gives me just a hint of relief, to know that he’s still in the room. Not that I think he could help me in any significant way, but his presence is still comforting.

           Master leans in for another kiss and I meet it eagerly. I’m still nervous. I need to block out the fact that this is a test, and one that I’m likely to fail. If I act more naturally maybe Master won’t realize that I’m not nearly as practiced as he’s been led to believe. He didn’t notice my lack of skill during our short tryst in the kitchenette. Perhaps I’ll be able to bluff my way through this encounter as well.

           With Master kissing me so gently, I can almost believe that this is a seduction. Master’s body is lean and strong, and it feels nice above mine. It’s easy to forget just how handsome Master Zeke is. With his chiseled chin and broad shoulders, he’s probably more classically handsome than either Zero or I am. His skin in slightly tanned, giving it a sun-kissed look that I know he achieves artificially from the lights above the pool. His body is sculpted, with supple musculature instead of the whipcord muscles of Zero’s body or my own slim, frail look. His hair is golden blonde, of a slightly darker hue than my own, and it falls in glossy waves almost to his shoulders. His eyes are a deep blue, but they contrast with his youthful body by sparkling with intelligence. It’s those eyes that always make me nervous, that always seem to be looking too closely and watching me too carefully.

           Master’s looks aren’t something I notice in our daily lives any more than I notice the beauty of the ship around me. Today, though, I’m grateful that my Owner is attractive, if only because it makes my task a little bit easier. I know from experience that my preferences don’t matter, that my task doesn’t change if I’m not physically attracted to an owner, but what Master is asking of me is far more difficult than what I’ve done in the past. I’ve never been an active performer before. I’ve always just been able to lay there and take it. 

           When Master breaks the kiss, he pulls back from me. At first I think I’ve done something wrong, but then I notice that he’s reaching for the lubricant. I feel my pulse quicken, but tamp down my nervousness. I’ve been lubed and fucked before, probably with far less prep than this. Owners will generally lubricate their assets, even domestic assets, before using them for sexual pleasure. Fucking a slave dry is supposedly unpleasant even for the owner and can seriously injure or kill an asset. I’ve heard that only a select few owners find it enjoyable, and even then they rarely want to incur the cost of indulging.

           That being said, Master Zeke is meticulous with his preparation, far more than my last owner or the trainers at the Oasis. For most owners, the preparation in the bathroom would have been more than enough. Master starts by bending my legs until my knees are at my shoulders, then has me grasp my legs to hold them steady. I feel more exposed like this, I think, than I would if I were on my hands and knees. Master then presses a dollop of lube directly onto my pucker, and then coats three of his fingers in the glistening substance. I flinch when he reaches for my entrance, thinking that he wants to force all three inside at once, but what I feel pushing into me isn’t larger than a single digit. I feel another finger join it quickly after. The two fingers thrust gently and tease my hole, spreading it and readying it for the third finger. By the time he adds the third, my hole is stretched and pliant enough that it slips in with minimal resistance. There’s a bit of burn to the stretch, my body trying to enforce limits that I have no control over, but it doesn’t hurt.

           With three fingers buried in my ass, Master moves his left hand to my cock. He strokes it slowly as he starts giving small thrusts with his fingers, almost pulsing them in my hole. My cock takes an immediate interest, and I have to admit that it feels good, especially once the burning starts to fade. I make a noise of pleasure and Master’s eyes move to my face.

           “You look so good like this, with my fingers inside you. Do you like how it feels to have my fingers stretching you out?” he asks. It’s sexy banter, but the question brings me back to myself like a bucket of ice water. This is a test of my sexual skills, and I’ve been letting Master Zeke put in all the effort. I’ve just been lying here like a corpse, letting him do the work!

           “Yes, Master!” I say loudly, thrusting my hips as much as I can without dislodging his hand, “I love the way your big fingers stretch out my little asshole!”

           His movements pause for a moment, and I can’t quite read the expression that flits over his face. Was he expecting me to be less skilled than this? Is he pleased? But then the look is gone and his fingers are moving in me again, his hand gently stroking my cock.

           “Do you like talking during sex?” he asks me. I can’t help a frown of confusion. Does he want me to be quiet? That’s probably not it. He was constantly talking to Zero while they were interacting, so I don’t think he wants me silent.

           “My mouth is for your pleasure,” I respond. It’s another standard line that they taught me during my training.

           “That’s not really what I asked,” he says, but he doesn’t press the matter further and I don’t know how to respond. Master starts increasing the speed of his fingers, and I throw back my head and moan theatrically. From my training, I know that it’s important that your owner thinks that you’re out of your mind with pleasure, even when you don’t really like what they’re doing.

           “Please, Master!” I beg, even though the words send a shiver of fear through me. I pull my knees higher and spread my legs further, making myself as open and exposed as possible. “Please fuck me with your big cock! I want to feel your big, hard cock in my little boy-cunt!”

           Master pulls back and takes his fingers out of me. Is he getting ready to put his cock in me? I feel another tremor of fear, even though it’s what I’ve been begging for. I knew it was coming, so I don’t know why I feel so nervous now. But Master just stares at me with a puzzled look, not making a move to put his cock in me at all. Did I do something wrong? But I don’t know anything else to do except push forward in the way I was trained.

           “Please Master! Shove your hard rod in my tight pussy!”          

           “Kiplan,” he says gently, with a perplexed look on his face, “Sweetie, you don’t have one of those.”

           “I-” There’s a heat rising to my face, and I drop my legs, half sitting up so that I can look at my Owner. “I know that!” I defend. “I just-… That’s what you’re supposed to say!”

           “Who told you that?” he questions.

           “The other assets – the ones who trained me at the Oasis.”

           Master Zeke contemplates me like I’m a very peculiar puzzle, with pieces that don’t quite fit together. I sit there with my face flaming, uncertain of what I should do. Did I do the wrong thing? I followed my training to the letter. I don’t understand how it turned out like this.

           Finally, he asks, “Is there a possibility that you were direct competition for the assets who trained you?”

           “What? No!” I deny. “I mean… Well, yes, technically, but you don’t think…”

           “That they would give you bad instructions so that you didn’t perform well and couldn’t compete with them? Yes, I do think that. I wonder if Reynard knows that his assets are being catty like that.”

“I wasn’t- I mean, I didn’t…” How to tell him that I did so poorly that Reynard didn’t have me trained any further? That the other assets who trained me didn’t think I was worth their time? “Reynard knew that I wouldn’t sell for much, so I just got a brush-up, not a full lesson.”

           “And the first time you were trained?” he asks. I can’t believe that my face has the power to get any hotter. I resist the urge to cover it with my hands.

           “I was a virgin,” I tell him. “They wanted to keep us pure for our first owner because we would fetch a higher price. So they didn’t really train us so much as make us aware of what would happen. But then there wasn’t much call for clones at that time, and I got sold as a domestic instead.”

           “And your owner didn’t have you trained for pleasure?”

           I shake my head. “He used me, of course, but just when it was convenient. I was a receptacle for his pleasure, so I could just lay there. I didn’t need to be entertaining or seductive. I could just… I could just let him do it.”

           Master is staring at me intently, and suddenly the room seems too small and too quiet. I cast a glance over to Zero to find that he’s staring at me, too. I can’t meet his gaze, so I duck my head instead. I feel like such a failure. A disappointment. Weak little Kip who can’t cook and doesn’t know how to fuck.

           Master tilts my chin up, and I force myself to meet his eyes. I expect to see the same amount of disappointment that I’m feeling, but there’s concern in his eyes.

           “That must have been difficult for you,” he says gently. “Being used like that, being thrown into a situation you were ill prepared for.”

           The memory is distant and dim, and I don’t want to pull it to the surface. After my time at the Oasis and seeing other assets being trained and being fucked, I wasn’t as naive as I had been when I first arrived. I expected sex to be terrible and painful, and it met my expectations. But what hurt worse was that the deep and gnawing ache for home, unlike the pain from my first sexual experience, never really went away. In those first few months, I cried almost all the time. I was pale and lethargic, and got disciplined often for failing to pay attention in my lessons. The other assets either ignored me or made fun of me. Eventually, I had to start doing better, had to learn to push the pain of missing home somewhere deep where it was easier to ignore. I had to start showing improvement or I wouldn’t have survived.

           “Kip?” I hear Master’s voice call. “Are you alright?”

           “Sorry,” I reply quickly, shaking myself from the memories. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-… I was hoping my training would be enough. I’m sorry that I’m not as skilled as you were led to believe.”

           “I suppose it can’t be helped,” he says, but there’s a note of weariness that tells me how much of a burden this is. Master already has to train Zero, and now he has to train me as well. “It might be better this way. I can train you to my standards.”

           “You don’t have to train me for pleasure,” I offer desperately, ashamed of being even more of a burden than I already am. “I’m not totally useless to you,” I promise him. “I was present as a domestic for a lot of parties at The Leash. I know how things work there. I can still guide Zero as a domestic. I can still…”

           “I need a partner for Zero, not a handler,” Master Zeke contends, though not unkindly. “I need you there as his sexual foil, as his opposite. I need a Yin and a Yang at my feet, or I risk other owners trying to introduce themselves or their assets for Zero to interact with. If I treat you two as a matching pair, then I cut down on that risk.”

           Does he mean that he doesn’t intend to share us? Or, at least, not right away? I don’t understand. Aren’t we… currency?

           Master must see the question on my face, because he says, “I raise the value of both of you by keeping you exclusive. If and when I do decide to share you, it will be with a strategic advancement in mind, and when I think you’re both able to handle satisfying another owner.”

           That means… That means we’re both going to have to become very good pleasure assets. Only the most desirable assets are hoarded by their master and not shared with others. Often the youngest or most handsome assets are kept exclusive, of which I am neither. Zero, at least, is notorious. I’m just… Just useless.

           “You needn’t worry about your value or skills,” Master says, using his left hand to cup my cheek. His right hand is still sticky with lube, resting next to his thigh. I can still feel the stretch of his fingers in my ass, the slick feeling of lube between my thighs. “It’s my responsibility to train you. All you need to do is follow my instructions to the best of your ability.”

           I still feel sharply disappointed in myself , but Master is still willing to try. I find myself nodding and saying, “Yes, Master.” Hope flutters in my chest, bruised and battered but unwilling to die. I want to stay here. I want to be useful to this man who controls my fate. I want to stop feeling like such a weakling and failure. I want him to make me better.

           “We’ll work on it again tomorrow,” he assures me, which leaves me blinking in confusion.

           “What?” I wonder, and he gives me a soft smile as he pulls back.

           “I think we should stop here for the day. You’re going to need more preparation than I thought, and I think we’ve pushed it far enough.”

           That’s just… That’s just stupid.

           “I thought you wanted to have sex with me? Wasn’t that the point of all this preparation?”

           “I do, but I don’t want to rush it. You’re less experienced than I thought and…”

           “I’m not  _ innocent _ ,” I growl, and I have a sudden flash of insight into what Zero must have been feeling all these weeks while Master trained him. “I’ve had sex! I’ve had loads of sex!” That might be a bit of an exaggeration. A dozen or so experiences are probably not a “load” but I’m not going to quibble over semantics. “I don’t need to be prepared for how to take a cock. I know how to have sex!”

           “I…” Master starts, but I can see him hesitating. I’ve already thrown his plans off and pushed his timeline back. If there’s any chance we can start right away, he needs to take it. And I want to show him that I can be useful.

           “Please,” I beg, “I just need to practice. I can be good for you. I just need you to train me.”

           He sighs. We both know that he’s between a wall and a hard place. He’s mentioned attending a party next week to show off Zero. He’s already delayed our training to let me recover, then again while we resettled earlier this week. Now he’s found out that I’m not as experienced as he was hoping and that I’ll need more training than he was expecting. He can’t afford to delay my training any longer, not if he hopes to make a good impression next week.

           “You must be aware that I’m considerably more well-endowed than other men,” Master warns. It makes me hesitate.

           “I… had noticed, yes,” I reply.

           “If you haven’t had sex recently, it’s likely to hurt trying to take my length. Even with your past experiences, taking a cock as big as mine is going to be difficult.”

           I feel a tremor of fear race through me. Master thinks I’m significantly more experienced than I actually am, and he still thinks this could be painful? How much will it hurt given my limited experience?

           “I’ll be gentle,” Master promises. “I’ll go slowly and let you adjust, but…”

           “There’s no way for this to be completely painless,” I finish for him.

           “I won’t be disappointed if you would prefer to wait for more training before attempting this.”

           “No!” I put in quickly. I’ve already been enough of a problem for Master. I won’t hold him up any longer, and I certainly won’t put Zero in danger by being ill-trained. I just need to convince Master that I’m ready. “Please, don’t make me wait,” I ask him. “I was... I mean, I liked what we were doing. I think I’m ready.”

           It’s apparently the perfect tactic, and I can practically see his resolve crumble. “Alright,” he tells me, “but just lay back and try to relax. Let me guide you and tell me if it starts to hurt.” His tone crisp and professional as we return to the lesson. I’m relieved. I want to prove that I can be useful to him and that I’m more than just a weakling. I lean back into the mattress and try to relax.

           Master rises from the bed and snags a towel from the night stand, wiping the lube from his fingers. I can see several objects in a case sitting beside the bed, along with the towel and the lube that he used on me. I don’t let my eyes linger on Master’s tools, for fear that I’ll see something that would make me anxious.

           But Master doesn’t bring any of the objects with him when he returns. Instead, he kneels between my legs again and kisses me. I feel the memories fade to the back of my mind, pushed away by the heat that I can feel building in my body. As we kiss, Master rubs his cock against mine. The gentle brushing is enough to spark an interest in my body, and my cock swells while trapped between our bodies.

           Master breaks the kiss and leaves me breathless, sitting on his knees to look at me. His hand moves over my shoulder and across my chest while his fingertips glide from my hip to my knee. He settles his hand there, and then reverses his course to stroke his fingers up my inner-thigh. At the juncture of my legs, his fingers cup and caress my testicles, gently running over the smooth, hairless skin of my sac. I gasp, my fingers twining in the bedclothes to keep me from surging upwards. My legs fall open without conscious thought, my still-slick entrance exposed to him.

           “Don’t fake anything,” Master instructs as I writhe beneath him. “Be as loud or as quiet as you want. I’ll train you on how to fake it convincingly at another time. Tonight is about learning your body and your reactions, so I need your honesty. Do you understand?”

           “Yes, sir,” I respond breathlessly. I can’t understand how well this night has turned out. It had gone so wrong, but somehow Master turned it around for me.

           “Good,” he says, giving me a smile. “I think you’ll pick this up easily.” His left hand slips between us and grasps my cock. His thumb slides over the head, making me gasp and give a low moan. “You’re already a natural.” My cock is weeping with need, but Master only teases, giving it feather-light strokes with his left hand while his right hand teases my balls. It continues for ages, until I can’t hold back my whimpers and groans. I’ve never felt anything like this. Eventually, his light touches feel like fire on my skin, and I’m reduced to pleading for him to do something, anything.

           “Please, Master,” I beg. It’s almost like some kind of code, because he immediately draws his hands back and moves his body between my legs.

           “Are you ready?” he asks as he moves my legs up to his hips. I feel a spike of nervousness, but I force myself to nod. Now that this is actually happening, it feels almost too real. I’m suddenly faced with the frightening fact that, despite everything he’s done to prove that he won’t hurt me, this man is in a position to destroy me, mind and body. I’ve seen sex used as a weapon against wayward or disappointing slaves, of which I am both. The outcome is as effective as it is gruesome, and I’m not sure I could survive.

           His cock, as he lines it up with the entrance to my body, is long and thick. Longer and possibly thicker than anything I’ve taken before. I feel another flutter of panic – what if it’s too long? What if my body is too slight for something that large? – but I force it down again. Master has been so good to me tonight. Far more patient and understanding than I could expect. I can’t disappoint him again!

           “Just relax,” he says, and the head of his cock is pressed against my pucker. I can feel it nudging its way inside without any effort on Master’s part. I take a breath and try to relax, but my body refuses to comply. It knows how much pain that first thrust brings, and it refuses to be caught unaware. Even if tensing only makes the pain worse.

           “Look at me,” Master instructs. “That’s right,” he says as I meet those stunning blue eyes. His left hand comes up to cup my cheek even as his right still holds his cock at my entrance. “Just watch my face.” And with those kind eyes pinning me down, I feel my body relax just the slightest.

           Master’s first thrust can hardly even be called a thrust. I almost don’t even notice it, as it’s little more than a pulse of pressure against my hole. It’s followed quickly by another, though, and this one is strong enough that the tip of his cock breaches me. I give a gasp, but his cock is retreating even before my nervousness can return. The next time he pushes in, I feel the head of his shaft press past my opening, and when he retreats he doesn’t pull the head of his cock out of my body. The next surge eases a bit of his length inside me, but it’s so little that I hardly even notice the stretch of it entering my body.

           The next thrust pushes further and my body resists. There’s a quick pain deep inside me, like a hot needle pressed against my flesh. This is something I remember, something I’m used to. I take a deep breath and try to relax, but my body is familiar with this. It knows that the pain will only increase as we continue, until it’s nearly blinding. I know the struggling will only make it worse, but I’m out of practice. I can feel my body starting to tense even as I struggle to control my reaction. It’s no use though. Desperately, I try to force my muscles to go lax, but my turmoil only makes the struggle harder.

           “Kip?” Master asks. He must have noticed something in my expression.

           “I’m okay,” I tell him, but his next thrust sends a stabbing pain through my tense body, and I flinch.

           “Do you want to change positions?” he asks me, and I nod. Maybe being on my back and bent in half like this is part of the problem. Maybe being in a more familiar position on my stomach will help.

           Master pulls out slowly – he’s not even halfway in yet! – and then moves out of the way so that I can turn. On my hands and knees, I feel a little more grounded and steady. Master kneels behind me and lines up his cock, thrusting gently to open me up. He goes slowly, but again I start to feel resistance as his length slips inside. There’s just so much of it! It’s thick and probably three or four inches longer than anything I’ve taken in the past. My hole is tight with disuse. It’s been months since anyone fucked me, and weeks since I was played with at the Oasis. Even that was minimal.

           I try to focus on my breathing and staying relaxed. His length may seem endless, but it isn’t. I’m well-prepared. I can do this. Master is counting on me.  _ I told him I could do this! _

           “Halfway,” Master tells me, and it’s far from a relief. I’d thought we were so much further! I can feel my entrance burning, my insides protesting at having to accommodate such a length. I stifle a whimper.

           Master gives me another small thrust and it sends a jab of pain through me. My body clamps down on the intruder, trying to ward off the future pain that it knows is coming. My heart starts to race. Tensing will only make it worse but I can’t get it to stop!

           “Wait,” I plead, “Wait, just give me a moment.”

           Master stills, but my body is tight around his cock and it’s making the pain worse. My breathing is coming in short gasps, my heart still pounding in my chest. I promised him I could do this! I can’t back out now! But my body won’t cooperate and the tension is making it  _ hurt _ where we’re joined. And he’s not even seated inside me yet!

           “Kip…”

           “Wait,” I beg. “Please, just-just wait. I can- I can handle it. Please!”

           But suddenly I’m not sure I can.


	24. Taking It In - Zeke POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry about the long cliffhanger. I hope this chapter is worth it!
> 
> I can't thank my beta team enough for helping me look this fic over. Akira, Deb, SiaB, LivyC, InterpidEm, and Ygrainne are all doing a great job for me and I really appreciate it.
> 
> Please let me know what you think by leaving me comments or kudos. (Even if you hate me for where I let this chapter end.) I really appreciate all of them, and I try to respond to as many as possible. Thanks for reading!

           My cock is buried halfway in Kip’s ass, and he’s having a panic attack beneath me. I want to kick myself. I knew he wasn’t ready, and I should have trusted my instincts.

           “Please,” he whimpers, so I run my hands down his sides to soothe him.

           “Take your time,” I tell him, keeping my voice soft and steady. We’re both trapped right now, but I don’t want him to know that. With his body clamped down almost painfully tight around my cock, there’s no way to extract myself without causing him more pain. Beyond that, backing off now could leave him with a fear of my cock’s size, and that’s the last thing I need.

           “Don’t move,” he begs, and there’s a hint of desperation in his voice. “Please, please don’t!”

           “I won’t,” I assure him, but it seems that he hardly hears me over the sound of his own panicked breaths. “I won’t move.” After years of sexual practice, I have excellent control over my cock. I’m not going to risk harming him by moving.

           He whines again, straining like maybe if he leans away hard enough we won’t be doing this anymore. I know he’s in pain; I have no delusions about the length and girth of my cock or how it feels to someone of Kip’s size. I want to tell him that this is for his own good. I want to tell him that it would be so much worse if I didn’t take it slow like this, if I just took him out and fucked him without trying to get him used to it. I want to explain how I had my first large cock from an arms dealer while I was on a mission halfway across the solar system, and how he fucked me while I was strung out and left me torn up inside. How I spent three weeks in a hospital because one of his men took pity on the stupid, drug-addicted teenager and dropped him off in front. I want to tell him that I know exactly what he’s going through and that it could be so much worse.

But I can’t tell him any of that.

           “It hurts,” he whines, pulling himself away from where my cock is only half buried in his body. He must have hit the end of his endurance while I was lost in my memories. “Please, master, it hurts too much!”

“I know,” I soothe, leaning over him. My hand strokes down his side and plays with his flaccid cock. His body can’t manage this level of fear forever. Once the adrenaline wears off, he’ll naturally relax and I can start again without hurting him. If we could just get his mind off of it, he could relax faster. “Focus on something else. Focus on my hand stroking your cock. Or… Zero, come suck Kip off.”

           Zero casts me a glance that is at once hesitant and calculating, and I give him a dark glare in return.

           “Zero, if there were ever a moment for you to disobey my commands, this is not it. Come here. Now.”

           “I wasn’t going to refuse,” Zero growls, giving me a sharp glare for thinking that he would challenge my orders. “I just… Do you really need Kip to serve you sexually? When you have me?”

           Ah. Well, having him leap to Kip’s defense is a better reason for his reluctance than simple disobedience, although not a more acceptable one. I’ve already explained why I want to take them out as a pair, so Zero’s comment is just second-guessing my decision, which has already been made.

           “That’s not your call,” I remind him, pinning him with a hard look while Kip squirms and whimpers beneath me. “Now come over here.”

           He nods, but I can still see his reluctance in the sag of his shoulders and the slow way he moves. As he crawls across the bed to us, I pull Kiplan up until he’s straddling my lap. Kiplan gives another whimper of pain as I move him, putting his back against my chest and giving Zero easy access to Kip’s cock. 

           “Just tease him,” I instruct as Zero lies on his back with Kip’s flaccid cock above his face. “The point is to distract him, not to actually get him off.” Zero nods, and I let Kip back down to his hands and knees. It puts them in the perfect position to reciprocate oral sex, if Kip were up for it. Instead, Kip crosses his arms on Zero’s pelvis and lays his head on Zero’s hip.

           Zero’s oral skills are excellent. Zero has a knack for reading body language, and his gag reflex is almost nonexistent. He can hold his breath for lengths that I’d be worried about if he weren’t so good at controlling his own body. It seems that he’s learned this skill with the same single-minded determination that he brings to his combat training.

I know this, so I’m not surprised by how quickly Kip’s body starts to relax and respond to Zero’s attention. Kip, however, makes several surprised little noises and seems genuinely shocked by his own reactions. It seems that he all but forgets the cock buried in his ass, instead mewling and whimpering as Zero’s hot mouth takes all of his attention. By the time I decide that I need to bring some of his attention back to the task at hand, Kip is already giving small, rocking thrusts into Zero’s mouth, inadvertently moving himself on my cock.

           “When you’re ready,” I tell Kip, my voice making him still and tense again slightly, “I want you to rock back against me. I’m going to let you fuck yourself on my cock.”

           “Okay,” he says as he unfolds his arms and pushes himself back to his hands and knees. “Like this?” he asks, and I feel the smallest movement of his body against my cock. It’s less than he’d been doing a moment ago, when his attention was still on Zero.

           “Yes, like that,” I respond. “Take your time and do what you can. And, Zero? Don’t let him come.”

           Zero doesn’t respond, but I feel his movements slow down around Kip’s cock, so I know he heard me. Kip gives a groan of disappointment as well, which confirms my assumption.

           With Kip on his hands and knees, moving gently against my body, I can see more of Zero’s torso still lying under Kip on the bed. More specifically, I can see Zero’s erect cock bobbing between his legs, and I can’t help a grin as I reach my hand over Kip’s shoulder and stroke Zero’s length.

           “What’s this?” I ask him, amused. After all, he came once already less than half an hour ago.

           Zero releases Kip’s cock and leans out from under him, so that he can see me. His lips are swollen and wet, and if our position didn’t forbid it I would lean over and kiss those enticing lips.

           “Sensation is something I have a hard time with,” Zero responds with a nod toward his cock. “Stamina, not so much.”

           I can’t help a laugh as I reply, “So I see,” and file that information away for later use. I’ll have to make sure I start using multiple orgasms in Zero’s training.

Then we both turn our attention back to Kip, who’s struggling to take more of my cock than he previously had. I’ve given up on the notion that he’ll be able to take the whole length today. That will have to wait for another time, when I’ve had more time to stretch him out. Instead, I plan on having him accept as much as he’s taken already, but to do it while I’m moving and without pain. Zero is helping with that, but now my hands come to Kip’s hips and I take back some control over my thrusts. I let Kip set the pace, but there are ways that I can move to make this more pleasurable for him, at least once he’s relaxed.

           Kip’s body doesn’t lend itself naturally to this kind of pleasure, but it doesn’t take much to convince it otherwise. I change the angle of my thrusts and hear Kiplan gasp. The pleasure from Zero’s mouth has relaxed him enough that my strokes aren’t painful, so it’s easier for him to accept the pleasurable sensation of my cock stroking his insides. Maybe with a little more training, he’ll actually come to like this sensation.

           Kiplan seems to be getting more eager, his thrusts becoming stronger and more demanding. I wrap my hand around the base of my cock, holding a few inches of my length. To an outsider, it might look like I’m making sure that my cock won’t slip out of Kip’s body, and it’s a trick I’ve used before when I’m penetrating an inexperienced lover. I’m actually making sure that Kip can’t take the entirety of my length with his eager thrusts. I’ve no interest in Kip feeling pain again and having to call another time-out. Not to mention, there’s a small possibility that Kip could injure himself with his eager pace. It would be safer if Kip were able to stay still and let me set a smoother, more gradual pace, but I know now that he’s not ready for that. Asking him to stay still would just make him tense up with fear and discomfort again, so there’s no point in even trying.  

           With my hand wrapped around the base of my cock, it’s safe to let Kip thrust against me as he pleases. Kip whines plaintively as he rocks against me, and I know Zero is keeping him just on the edge of orgasm. Zero, as I’ve come to find in the past weeks, is good at that.

“I’m going to let Zero get you off before I come inside you, alright?”

           “Yes,” he whimpers. “Please!”

           I smile and withhold a comment about how much more realistic his pleading sounds now compared to earlier.

           “Zero, can you let him fuck your mouth?”

           Zero, whose mouth is otherwise occupied, waves his hand at me in what I can only assume is a positive gesture. It’s Kip who protests, shaking his head and saying, “I don’t want to hurt Zero.”

Before I can respond, Zero gets annoyed enough to remove his mouth from Kip’s cock, making Kip give a plaintive, desperate little whine. Zero growls, “There’s no way you’re going to hurt me,” and I can practically hear him rolling his eyes at Kip’s overprotective tendencies. “Just do it,” he finishes, and then assumedly puts his mouth back to work on Kip’s cock.

           Zero’s testy assurances seem to be enough to convince Kip, who starts thrusting in earnest again, rocking himself between my hips and Zero’s mouth. Without having to worry about hurting Kip, I let myself relax into the motion. Kip’s body is tight and sweet, and his shallow, halting thrusts are just enough to tease my cock without putting me anywhere near orgasm. Even as the strokes become more demanding as Kip nears completion, I have enough control not to come.

           Kip’s body tenses as he nears orgasm, his hole clutching around my cock while he snaps his hips downward into Zero’s pliant mouth. I keep one ear tuned for any sounds of distress from Zero, but I don’t think that he’ll have any issues. Zero can handle my cock, and I’m quite a bit larger than Kip.

           Kip’s orgasm comes quickly and seems to take him by surprise. I can see it building in the way his movements become faster and more desperate. When it hits, though, his body tenses and he makes a high, almost frightened noise, his hips rocking into Zero’s mouth as he comes. It’s a shame that I can’t see his face from this position. It would be nice to see the expression he gets when he orgasms, although the noises he makes are quite nice. From the last time we had sexual contact, I know that his eyes go wide and unseeing as the pleasure hits him, that his mouth goes lax as he moans his completion. Thankfully, it’s a pretty face, one of such acute pleasure that it almost looks like pain. Controlling someone’s expression when they come is a difficult thing to do, although not impossible.

           Kip’s body goes limp as his orgasm abates. I pull him up gently as Zero wiggles out from beneath him. Zero’s cock is still hard, but he makes no move to stroke it. With Zero gone, Kip lays flat against the bed, with only his hips tilted up to give me access. He casts a glance at me over his shoulder, sloe-eyed and sated.

           “What should I do, Master?”

           “Just lie here,” I tell him, moving so that I’m kneeling over top of him. “I’ll do the work.”

           One of my hands is still between us, holding the base of my cock. I put the other near his shoulder to support some of my weight. I wish I could say that it’s a struggle to keep my hand wrapped around my cock, but that’s not the case. As much as I enjoy freely pounding into an experienced lover, I’ve had plenty of encounters with the opposite. My hand stays firmly wrapped around the base of my cock, ensuring that I don’t hurt Kip with my strokes. If the lack of depth diminishes the pleasure I feel, it’s only slightly, and more than made up for by the fact that Kip is lying complacently beneath me, not squirming in pain.

           One of the downsides of letting Kip finish first is that he’s no longer thrusting eagerly against me. His body is relaxed, but that also works to my advantage. With the pleasurable sensations of orgasm still in his body, Kip doesn’t protest or tense when I start to thrust into him. It’s not something I’ll be able to do with him very often – I don’t want him getting used to coming first or assuming that he’ll be allowed to come at all – but it helps with this first experience.

           My cock is aching from the long period of time that it’s had to be erect and still. The feel of Kip’s warm body moving around me sends sharp spikes of pleasure into my groin, and I don’t bother to draw this out. Kip moans as I set a more aggressive pace, but he doesn’t seem to be feeling discomfort. He wiggles beneath me, and it seems like his body is enjoying my movements in the afterglow of his own pleasure. He still hasn’t managed to take my whole cock, but it’s a good sign that he’s at least enjoying this part.

           My orgasm comes quickly and strong. Having teased myself for so long, the buildup is intense and the release has me seeing spots. I’m grateful that my hand is wrapped around the base of my cock, creating a barrier to how much length I can press into Kip’s body. As the orgasm hits me, I forget myself for a moment and thrust forcefully into Kip’s body. Kip gives out a yelp of surprise, but my fist keeps me from doing anything more than pushing Kip down into the mattress. I still at Kip’s noise of distress, letting myself empty into his body while my orgasm courses through me. After a few seconds of stillness, Kip calms and settles down beneath me. I give a sigh of pleasure as the feeling of euphoria starts to leave me, relaxing and falling to the side. My body is still wrapped around and joined with Kip’s, so he moves with me, but he’s so exhausted that he barely murmurs in protest.

           It takes several minutes for me to recover. My thighs are burning from staying on my knees for so long, and my heart is pounding from the intensity of my orgasm. Holding myself back for so long was a bit of a trial, since I haven’t had to do it recently. When I finally manage to push myself up on my elbows, I see Zero sitting on the bed beside us, absently stroking his own cock. I pull out of Kip gingerly, checking for injuries as I go. He’s already half asleep against the bed. This evening’s activities have obviously worn him out.

           I turn my attention to Zero, who looks hopeful but isn’t demanding my attention. The decision to get Zero off isn’t an attempt at atonement for the pain I’ve just caused Kip, but it feels like it. I’m not used to hurting anyone sexually, although I know my cock is more than capable of it. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth. But the more simple explanation could be that I like getting Zero off. I like the way his cock feels in my mouth, the noises he makes when he comes, how open his expression is during orgasm. I know it’s probably not wise to be so generous with my asset’s orgasms, but I simply can’t help myself.

           Zero falls back as I crawl over to him, his legs splayed open and his cock erect between them. He tilts his head and grins, but then throws his head back and moans when I give a gentle lick to the underside of his cock. I know Zero has issues with sensation, and having already come once I’ll probably need to use very little pressure to stimulate him. He spreads his legs further and leans back. I catch a glimpse of red between his legs, and my fingers seek out the plug still seated inside him. I twist it, and his cock bobs in front of my face as he gives a startled yelp and then a thick moan.

           “Come here,” I tell him, moving to the side of the bed. He complies easily, and I go to the floor between his legs. He sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress, with his lower back perched on the mattress and his ass still exposed for me play with. I tug gently on the plug as I settle my mouth around the head of his cock. I pop the phallus in and out of his hole, teasing him as I suck his cock. He groans, throwing his head back and giving tiny thrusts with his hips. His hands come to my shoulders, then hover just beside my face. He hesitates, glancing down to meet my eyes.

           “Can I?” he asks.

           It takes me a moment to realize what he’s asking for, and then I’m so surprised that I take a moment more. He’s never asked for anything like this before. Finally, I nod, and he twines his fingers in my hair. His hands settle along my scalp, simply touching without pulling or guiding my head.

           I don’t drag out Zero’s second orgasm. We’re both sweaty and exhausted, so I set a slow, steady pace that I know will bring him to the edge. In a matter of minutes, he’s moaning and writhing. I pull the plug out of his hole and replace it with three of my fingers, thrusting them gently into his stretched body. My mouth is working his cock, just barely touching his over-sensitized skin. When he comes, spurting only a few drops of hot come into my mouth, I feel his ass clench rhythmically around my fingers. My own cock gives a twitch of interest, but I’m too tired for another round. When Zero’s orgasm finishes, I drag myself back onto the bed and flop beside him, sharing a sated smile before giving myself a few minutes to recover.

           It takes the better part of twenty minutes before I feel like moving again. I let Kip doze during that time, although I send Zero to start the shower before I wake Kip. I’m glad I did, since I have to half-carry a drowsy, limping Kip to the master bathroom. Under the hot spray, Kip leans against the wall and shuts his eyes, letting me run a rag over his body and wash away the excess fluids. He doesn’t move when I dry him either, using a soft terrycloth towel. He whimpers when I smear a numbing gel between his legs, but he’ll be glad for it in the morning. Zero gets the same treatment, although I doubt his body needs it as much as Kip’s. I take a minute to rub the small of Kip’s back, hoping to ease some of the soreness that will probably develop. Then I give in to the temptation to pick him up and carry him back to the bed.   

           Zero is pretty much unphased by our activities, so he’s the one who strips the soiled coverlet off the bed and turns down the covers. He crawls in first, letting me slide Kip in the middle and then crawling in myself on the outside. Kip blinks at me sleepily when I settle into bed next to him, with Zero playing the silent sentinel on his other side.

           “I’m sorry for misleading you about my sexual experience,” he says softly, his body curled in my arms, Zero curled at his back. I withhold a sigh, because I don’t want to get mad at him, but everything tonight would have gone a lot more smoothly if he’d been honest from the start. Not to mention, my training plans are now in disarray. But those are problems for tomorrow.

           “Eventually,” I tell him gently, “you’re going to have to start trusting me.”

           He hesitates too long before saying, “But I do trust you, Master.”

           And in that moment, I can hear the lie in his voice. 


	25. Midnight Confessions - Kip POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone's been missing Zero, so this chapter has a lot of interaction with him. Hope you like it!
> 
> I can't thank my beta team enough for helping me look this fic over. Akira, Deb, SiaB, LivyC, InterpidEm, and Ygrainne are all doing a great job for me and I really appreciate it.
> 
> As always, Kudos are appreciated and comments are even better. Thanks!

           I wake late that night to a headache.

           It’s not a migraine. At least, I don’t think it’s a migraine. It’s a dull pain, not the bright and centered flare that I usually feel. Still, the threat is there that it could deepen, could magnify into a full migraine. My body aches, my ass feels raw and irritated despite Master’s careful preparation and amazing self-control. I hadn’t realized how much training and skill it would take to have sex with someone of his size and girth, and my body keeps reminding me that it was a bad idea to mislead him about my experience. I know it could have been worse – so, so much worse – but the fact that it could have been much worse doesn’t change how I feel now. I’m not sure if my headache is a side effect of the aches in my body, or perhaps even the stress of tonight’s training. Or is it a precursor of a migraine that is uninfluenced by this evening’s events? Should I go back to sleep and hope it fades with the aches of my body? Or should I assume that by morning it will have magnified into a debilitating pain?

           Master is asleep only a few inches from me. Zero is asleep on my other side. Luckily, Master has turned his back to me, and Zero always gives me a bit of room when he’s sleeping. If Master were still holding me in his sleep, like he normally does, I’d be trapped. As it is, sliding down the bed to get out at the foot is a bit of a risk, but perhaps a necessary one. If this turns into a full-blown migraine over night, I’ll have no hope of hiding it from Master if he wakes first in the morning. After something this intensive, Master will probably want to spend time with me, so I won’t be able to slip down to medical.

           It could be nothing, I remind myself. This could be a side effect of all the strain from last night. I could be feeling run down because of the pain. It might not develop into a migraine, it might just fade away. I might be able to tough my way through it. Master might never even notice.

           All these thoughts run through my head, but they sound empty even in my own mind. I can’t risk Master finding out about my migraines, I decide. As quietly as I can, I slip out from under the covers. Getting to the bottom of the bed is a little tricky, but I’m slow and cautious at it. I have a hundred simple excuses waiting if either of them wake, and it would be easier to get out of the bed again later if I took the outside. But Zero doesn’t wake and Master doesn’t stir. At the foot of the bed, I give myself a moment to take a breath of relief, and then snag a pair of sleeping pants and pad to the door. Master and Zero don’t so much as shift in their sleep, and I breathe a sigh of relief when the door shuts quietly behind me.

           The path I walk to the medbay is starting to get familiar, and that’s concerning. I’ve been trying to ration the pain patches, but I know that my supply will run out at some point if my migraines keep up. I’ve completely stopped trying to use the pills that are stocked. A low dose of pills does nothing for my headache, and a high dose leaves me nauseous and woozy, although it will muffle the pain slightly. I don’t know what I’ll do if the headaches keep up and the patches run out.

           In the medbay, I pull out the fourth box in a row of six, knowing that the three in front of it are stuffed with empty papers. There are two more rows of unopened boxes, but still I feel trepidation at my dwindling supply. I leave the lights out, curling on the floor next to one of the beds and pulling out the medical strip by the dim glow from the emergency lights. The paper on this patch is already open, and the bristles are half worn away. I’ve used this patch twice already, taking a small dose of the painkiller to try to stretch my supply. Tonight will be the last time I can use it, and it’s the last one in this box.

           The door slides open and the lights snap on. My breath catches in my throat, and the strip in my hands slips from my nerveless fingers to the floor beside my leg. There’s no time to hide the box beside me, as I’m already pinned by gray eyes. Zero is standing in the doorway, his eyes finding me immediately despite the fact that I’m half-hidden behind one of the beds. He’s wearing only a pair of cloth shorts, his hair still mussed from sleep. His eyes move from my face to the box of pain medicine beside me and then back to my face.

           “What are you doing?” he asks.

           A thousand thoughts leap though my mind, but my mouth says, “Nothing,” as Zero steps inside and lets the door slide shut behind him.

           “Doesn’t look like nothing,” he contends.

“No, I mean,” I say quickly, my heart pounding in my chest. “It’s really just nothing.”

           Zero arches an eyebrow and says, “So you just stumbled in here and fell into the pain medicine?” And, yeah, maybe that doesn’t sound like my most believable lie so far.

           “It’s not a big deal. Master said I could take what I need,” I defend. That sounds plausible, right?

           “I doubt he meant for you to be sneaking down here in the middle of the night and getting high.”

           “I’m not! I just… I have a headache…” I admit, not knowing what else I can say that won’t make me look like an addict.

           “Obviously.”

           “If you know that, then it’s pretty obvious what I’m doing down here, isn’t it?” I growl. My head is still pounding, even worse now from the adrenaline. Damn it! Why couldn’t he have just stayed asleep?

           “I don’t know why you’re sneaking around,” Zero responds.

           “I didn’t think it was a big deal. Master Zeke wouldn’t want to be bothered about it.”

           “That’s a lie. We both know that Zeke would want to be bothered if you got a hangnail, let alone another migraine.”

           “I was going to tell him in the morning, honestly.” Which hadn’t been the original plan, but I suppose I’ll have to tell him something now that Zero’s found me out. If Zero doesn’t report me himself.

           “Lie.”

           “It’s just a little headache,” I try again. “I didn’t want to wake Master Zeke about it.”

           “Lie,” Zero says, leaning against the wall crossing his arms over his chest. I bite back a curse and manage to smile at him.

           “Okay, it’s a pretty strong headache,” I admit, “but it’s just this once. I haven’t had any for weeks now.”

           “Lie,” he responds again.

           “Damn it, Zero!” I snarl, my already thin patience snapping under the strain of his interrogation. “How do you always know? Why can I fool everyone but you?”

           “Maybe I’m just better than them,” he responds, completely unperturbed by my outburst. “Or, possibly, because I don’t watch your face when I suspect that you’re lying.”

           “My face?” I wonder, and that makes Zero roll his eyes.

           “It’s less impressive if you don’t know that you’re doing it,” he tells me, but comes to sit beside me on the floor. “You don’t have any physical tells when you lie. Your expression and your movements stay completely natural. It’s only your voice that changes when you lie. It gets a very slightly higher pitch, which implies mental stress. I wouldn’t have noticed it if I weren’t paying attention to it.”

           “But Master hasn’t noticed, has he?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

           “Zeke has a blindspot where you’re concerned. You evoke something protective in him and he can’t see past this innocent façade you have.”

           “I’m surprised he still cares, given how much trouble I’ve been lately.”

           “You look a lot like him. You’re both have blonde hair and fair skin,” Zero points out, but I can’t see the connection so he elaborates with, “If you weren’t a clone, you’d almost look related. Maybe he sees you as his son?”

           “That’s ridiculous. I’m practically his age and he fucks me.”

           “Maybe he sees you as his younger self, then. Given your height and weight, you look significantly younger than him.”

           “Maybe,” I concede, “but that’s not going to hold out forever. Especially not if…”

           “If what?”

           I bite my lip and pull my knees up to my chest. I can feel tears springing to my eyes but I try to hold them back. There’s no sense in lying now, since I know that Zero can read me. Still, I have a hard time forcing myself to say the words, like saying them out loud will somehow make them more real.

           “If he finds out my migraines are back,” I admit, and I can feel myself losing my battle with tears. I’ve been so happy here, and the prospect of losing that just when everything is going so well is almost too painful to bear. “That they never actually left and they’re just as bad as they were before I came here.”

           Zero shrugs nonchalantly, and it stings a little that he can be so casual about my well-being.

           “Zeke won’t get rid of you just because you have migraines.”

           “That’s easy for you to say,” I reply bitterly. “You’re good at everything! You’re an amazing combat asset and you’re already a better pleasure asset than I am even though you weren’t trained for it! Of course he wouldn’t get rid of you! But I’m just a passable domestic who’s too weak to do any real work. Anybody can cook with a little practice. He could replace me for half the cost of fixing me. Don’t you see? I’m nobody special, not like you.”

           Zero is silent for a moment, simply sitting and staring across the room. When I finally think that he isn’t going to respond, he sighs and pulls his knees up to his chest.

           “I do achieve perfection in everything I do. It isn’t something I have control over. If I weren’t perfect, I’d be dead.”

           “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

           He stares at me for a moment. I scrub at my eyes with my sleeve, suddenly self-conscious. I probably look pathetic, curled up on the floor weeping like a child. It’s a wonder Zero doesn’t sneer and leave. I deserve it, for being such a crybaby.

           “Stop,” Zero says, pulling my arm away from my face. “You’re making your skin all red,” he tells me. He reaches up with his thumbs and wipes the tears away. I try to smile at him, but I’m still feeling miserable. He pulls his hands away and wraps his arms around his knees, mimicking my position.

           “How much do you know about where I came from? Before the Leash?”

           “Not much,” I tell him with a shrug. “Just… You know, just all the rumors.”

           Experiment. Super-soldier. Killing machine. Inhuman. Monster. I don’t believe any of them. I never did.

           “Most of them are true,” he tells me.

           “I don’t think so,” I tell him dryly. “I heard a rumor that you were actually a werewolf.”

           “Okay,” he acknowledges, and tries to hide his embarrassed smile by pressing his face into his knees. “That one is a stretch.” Then he turns his face toward me, resting his cheek on his knees. His expression is serious, but in that position he looks much younger and more vulnerable. I haven’t seen him look like that before, and I find myself scooting closer until our shoulders are touching.

           “The other rumors, though,” he continues, “the ones about me being a killer? A monster? Those are true. I’m a failed experiment to create and copy the ideal soldier, an unthinking, unfeeling killing machine. We were supposed to be perfect specimens, and any clone in my batch who didn’t meet that standard was immediately eliminated.” He hesitates, but I don’t know what to say to that. It’s… It’s just awful. What can I say to make that any better? My situation, my stupid little headaches, they don’t even compare. After a moment, he says, “I’m good at what I do because I don’t know any other way to be.”

           “I’m sorry,” I tell him miserably. “This must seem so stupid to you. I can’t – I can’t even get my own body under control.”

           “This isn’t in your control,” he responds. “Zeke won’t blame you for something you have no power over.”

           “He won’t blame me, but will he keep me?” I contend. “You have to understand, I was valuable before all this happened. I was… I was like you,” I explain, trying to convince him with my earnestness. “I was head chef for one of six kitchens on my owner’s ship. I had a team of twelve other assets working under me. I got all the new recruits, because I was the best teacher.”

           I hesitate, uncertain of how to explain this to Zero. How to make him understand what my life was like before the migraines made it all fall apart.

           “I was very valuable,” I tell him slowly. “I learned things quickly, and I was very skilled. When there was a new technique to learn, my owner always came to me first. I got a lot of difficult assignments, and I always did well enough not to be punished.” Punishments, of course, were a common way to persuade assets to do better. “But mostly I was valued because I could train other assets, and because new assets always left my kitchen ready to work or be sold. I liked giving other assets a chance at having a good life, at keeping them out of the fighting rings or the sexual trade. We weren’t friends – I didn’t dare get too close to any of them, for fear my owner would think I was giving preferential treatment and discipline them – but it still made me very happy to teach them. It was the only thing I could do to protect them, to train them as best I could. In a way, it made me feel like I had a purpose for being there. If I couldn’t be with my grandmother, helping her, then at least I could help and protect someone else. Sometimes, that was all that kept me going.”

           I take a moment to remember the good times, few and far between as they were. The times when one of my students learned a new skill. The times when my team came together to work flawlessly, not from fear but because they were all skilled and dedicated. The way I felt when we accomplished a big task, like a banquet or an exclusive dinner. Before it all went to hell.

           “When the headaches started, my owner first tried punishing me, thinking that I was getting lazy. Then he sent me to the medic, but he couldn’t find anything wrong. Slowly, everything fell apart. I didn’t have the concentration for intricate projects, and soon I wasn’t able to teach. I got bumped back to menial projects and then… well, even I wasn’t surprised when he sold me.”

Not surprised, but the devastation I felt at losing the second place I’d finally come to accept as my home… I don’t know where I got the will to live. With excruciating migraines happening every few days, I just wanted to curl up and let go. But I was still afraid of death, and even more afraid of being raped to death. I suppose that fear won out, in the end.

           “So, you see,” I continue, “It’s not like my last owner just let me go. I’ve had tests, Zero. Whatever this is, it’s not an easy fix. Maybe there’s no fix. In that case, what’s the point of telling him? Wouldn’t it be better just to keep him in the dark until… well, until there’s no other option?”

           It’s Zero who looks miserable now. After a moment, he gives a sigh and straightens one leg. He pulls up the leg of his shorts, showing me the stark, shattered scars on his left hip.

           “This happened to me when I got hit with a pulse-rifle blast. My owner then didn’t want to admit that I could be hurt, that anyone or anything could hurt me. He thought it would make him look weak. So he had me dragged back to my cell and left me there to recover or die. I lived… but this hip has never been the same. It aches frequently. Sometimes my leg won’t hold my weight when I jump or fall. It doesn’t bend like it used to, and it can’t kick as strongly as it once did. These are facts. There’s nothing I can do about them, and it’s not likely that anyone can repair the damage at this late stage.”

           “Why are you telling me this?” I ask him. He lets his shorts fall back down and pulls his knee back to his chest.

           “I haven’t told Zeke about my hip. I tell myself it’s because there’s nothing he can do for it and because I can still fight, but the truth is that I don’t like admitting weakness any more than you do.”

           “Would he… I mean, you’re a pleasure asset now. Would it matter?”

           “Zeke is letting me train to for the Competition. I worry that if he finds out about my hip, he’ll decide that I’m not strong enough to compete. In that case, my training would be a waste of time and I’m not sure he’ll allow me to continue.”

           “And you want to compete? You don’t need to. Being a pleasure asset is certainly easier.”

           “I want to compete,” he tells me. “I enjoy training. I enjoy fighting. I just don’t like killing. The rest of it… I’ve been doing the rest of it since I was a child. It is both familiar and enjoyable to me.”

           “It’s hard to imagine anything from your childhood being enjoyable.”

           “I suppose,” Zero says, and I can’t quite read the expression on his face. “Compared to yours, my childhood must seem stark and inhuman.”

           “I-… Yes. The hardships I faced living with my grandmother seem petty when compared to yours.”

           “And before that?” he asks. It’s odd for Zero to pry like this.

           “I don’t know,” I respond honestly. “I was too young to remember, and my grandmother- well, the woman I thought of as my grandmother was never told my original intent. She got me through a government program that put my group into foster care until we were old enough to harvest for the Leash. I don’t know anything other than that. Why?” I wonder.

           “It’s nothing,” he responds cryptically, and then rises to his feet. I’m suddenly so worried that I let his questions slip my mind.

           “Are you going to tell Master Zeke?” I ask desperately. “Please, at least let me…”

           “I won’t tell him,” Zero promises, “until I’m sure that he won’t get rid of you or until I have no other choice.”

           “Thank you,” I whisper, so overwhelmed with gratitude that I can hardly form words. “Zero, thank-…”

           “I still think you should tell him,” he contends, “but I won’t force you.” He sits on the medical cot. “Put the patch on so we can go back to bed.”

           “Oh- yes,” I respond, grabbing the half-used patch from the floor with clumsy fingers. Zero watches impassively as I strip out of my shirt and move to place the strip under my arm.

           “Wait,” Zero says, moving to stand in front of me. He holds his hand out, and after a moment of hesitation I put the strip in his hand. He peels the back off and lets it drop to the floor, then gently pushes my head forward until my neck is exposed.

           “Your hair is long enough to hide the mark,” he points out. He’s right, of course, but it’s very difficult to apply there by myself. Zero smooths the bristled strip across my neck until it’s flat, then backs away and sits on the bed again. I remain seated on the floor, letting the medicine start to take effect. In a matter of minutes, I can feel the painkillers starting to kick in and I sigh with relief.

           “Thank you,” I tell Zero softly. “For everything. For helping me. For not telling Master. For… just for being here, I suppose.”

           Zero snorts and says, “It doesn’t take much to gain your gratitude, does it?”

           I smile in response, feeling too good to be annoyed. In the silence, with my mind clouded by the haze of drugs, a thought niggles at my consciousness. Finally I ask, “Do you think there’s something… odd about our Owner?”

           Zero lets out a sharp laugh at that, followed immediately by, “You are high, aren’t you?”

           “No,” I deny sharply, because I don’t feel floaty or strange, not like I did when I first came to Master Zeke. I just feel… I just feel good. Normal, but with an edge of happiness because for a moment I’m free of pain. 

           Zero is still chuckling when he slides off of the bed to sit on the floor with me again.

           “You don’t find any of this weird?” I push, because I can’t be the only one who finds Master Zeke strange. 

           “Kip,” Zero says seriously, “Do you think I’m an idiot? Of course I’ve noticed that Zeke isn’t like other owners. The fact that neither of us is dead pretty much proves it.”

           “Oh,” I respond, “I… Oh.” I don’t really know how to handle this sudden change of perspective. Zero chuckles again at my uncertainty. Finally, I ask, “Should we do something about this? Should we… I don’t know… Should we try to find out what’s going on?”

           “Leave it be,” Zero says in a more serious tone. “There’s nothing that prying will get you other than in trouble again. It’s not likely that you’ll be able to find out anyway, but I don’t want to see you sold because you dig too deep. Whatever Zeke is doing here, obviously he isn’t a sadistic person. I doubt that what he’s hiding will have a negative impact on us. It might not have anything to do with us.”

           “Do you think that?” I ask him, but he just shrugs.

           “I don’t know any more than you do, but Zeke hasn’t done anything to show me malintent. If his prior actions are any indication, I have to assume that he means us no harm. It seems more likely that this is a sensitive business venture that he doesn’t want to jeopardize by informing us. If nothing else, he’s shown me that he’s intelligent, capable, and even-tempered. I have to trust that he won’t put us in unnecessary danger.”

           I nod and we lapse into silence. There’s merit to Zero’s words, but not knowing Master Zeke’s true intentions leave me feeling uneasy. It lends weight to this idea I have that Master Zeke can’t possibly be this good, and that something much darker must be hiding beneath. 

           With a quiet sigh, I lean my head on Zero’s shoulder and let my thoughts drift away. We stay like that for a while, until I can tell that the patch has run its course. I move away from Zero and pull the patch gingerly away from my skin. When it’s free, I reapply the paper and put it back into its box. Zero rises when I put the box back into the cupboard, then moves behind me as I turn toward the exit. I can feel his hand at the small of my back as I move toward the door.

           “You’re going to have to learn to trust Zeke at some point,” he tells me as he shuts the lights off and lets the door slide closed behind us, “but I’ll help you until you do. I won’t tell him about your migraines. Not unless I have to, unless I think it’s dangerous not to.”

           I think it’s only partially because of the pain medicine that I feel so much better as we return to bed. Somehow, everything just seems better now.

           Now that I’m not alone in this.


	26. Depression and Initiative - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! That's all I'm gonna say. FINALLY!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it. ;)
> 
> I can't thank my beta team enough for helping me look this fic over. Akira, Deb, SiaB, LivyC, InterpidEm, and Ygrainne are all doing a great job for me and I really appreciate it.
> 
> As always, Kudos are appreciated and comments are even better. Thanks!

           I wake up sore and achy the next morning. Kip and Zero are already gone, as they generally are. I can smell coffee and I know that Kip has probably set out a cappuccino in my office. He’s not really supposed to be making breakfast, but I’ve conceded this one aspect to him after I had a rather embarrassing run-in with the cappuccino-maker. Unfortunately, even Kip’s exquisite coffee isn’t enough to pry me from the bed.

Everything just seems… heavy. Like the weight of the world is holding me on this bed. I lie here and stare at the canopy, unable to find the energy to get to my feet. Everything beyond the bed is a mess. Plans lie in hypothetical heaps on the floor, strewn around the room, trampled and torn beyond repair. Kip isn’t going to transform into a showable pleasure asset in two weeks. He may never become one. He certainly isn’t designed for pleasure. Opening his body was a struggle, and then getting him to accept my cock was impossible. For having such an outgoing personality, Kip becomes shy and awkward once sex is introduced. It’s probably a side effect of having most of his experience from being a “receptacle” instead of a showpiece. He never learned to be pretty or seductive. When he gets nervous, his natural beauty and grace disappears.

But there’s nothing to be done about it now. I’ll have to decide whether to take him and risk embarrassment, or leave him behind and hope Zero can manage on his own. I’ll find out in this next week whether or not Kip can handle performing sexually. At the moment, I don’t even want to think about it.

There was a meeting for my company yesterday. I’m sure the minutes have been sent to me and I really need to look them over. The company is looking to invest in some riskier ventures. At this point, I could use the extra profits if these investments go well. On the other hand, I could find myself short on funds if the ventures go badly and the company’s profits fall. It’s risky. I need to do some research and throw my weight behind one option or the other. Despite the fact that I’ve only recently become an active member of the board, my wealth and my surname give me sway over the other members of the board.

I should probably exercise, too. I try to swim a few laps or jog a couple miles every day, and I skipped yesterday to free up more time with Zero and Kip. A few hours of exercise every day keeps my body in this shape, and I know that it’s important for me to be in peak physical condition when I start to meet other owners. I’ll need my own beauty to attract attention and give me an edge, along with Zero’s skills and… well, whatever Kip can manage.

Thinking about Kip makes me tired again. I know I need a plan for him. I know I need to find some new way to try to get him to trust me. Even if I can’t manage that, I need to start training him. Now that I know how much training he needs, I’ll have to make a schedule and a routine for him. Maybe overlap some of his lessons with Zero’s. And Zero’s lessons will need to be increased, now that I know Kip won’t be able to take much of the attention off of him. I need a plan. I need to figure out a plan.

My head is spinning. My stomach is in knots. I close my eyes and turn over, pulling the blankets over my head. Hours pass. I drift back to sleep. Wake up. Roll over and stare at the canopy some more. I contemplate running from The Leash, which is something I can’t do. There’s no place far enough that they couldn’t get to Kip and Zero easily. I contemplate running from the Department. It’s a chain of thought that makes it a little farther, until I realize that it means keeping up this farce for the rest of my life. But at least Kip and Zero would be safe. Maybe it’s the only option left, really. My mission is essentially over before it has even begun.

It’s too much to even contemplate right now. I close my eyes again. I just don’t want to think about it anymore.

The sound of footsteps wakes me. I open bleary eyes to see Zero walking up to the bed. He’s dressed in skintight shorts and a tanktop, both in black. He stops only inches in front of the bed and stares down at me.

“Get up,” he demands.

“I’m fine, Zero,” I reassure him. “Leave me be. I’m just tired.”

“No, you’re not,” he replies, his expression unimpressed. “You’re sulking. Get up.”

“I am not sulking!” I growl. “I’m allowed to sleep in.”

“Sleeping in ended two hours ago,” Zero responds, pulling the coverlet from the bed. I’m naked beneath and the open air chills my skin. I make a grab for the blanket, but Zero is faster. Before my fingers touch the fabric, it’s flying toward the other side of the room.

“You’re trying my patience,” I snarl.

“Yeah?” he sneers, cocking his head. “Good thing you’re too tired and worn out to do anything about it.”

I surge to my feet, a snarl on my lips. I’m naked still, towering over Zero’s smaller form. Still, Zero doesn’t shrink away. His back is straight, his shoulders relaxed, and he’s smirking at me.

He’s smirking. He… Oh.

“Not tired anymore?” he asks, amusement settling in his eyes.

“Don’t get cocky,” I grouse, turning toward the closet.

“If you still want to put me in my place,” he calls, and I glance up to see him walking out of the room, “I’ll be in the training room. I could use the practice if you’re not too exhausted to spar.”

His taunt sends an obviously intended jab of irritation through me. Zero’s lack of tact does not reduce the effectiveness of his barb, and I find myself yanking on my workout clothes. Maybe it’s the bad mood I’m already in.

To hell with it.

When I meet Zero in the training room, he’s already stretching out in the large, matted area that he uses to practice fighting. I join him, falling into some simple stretches beside him. Being up and moving, I feel a little better than I had lying in bed.

“Where’s Kip?” I ask casually. I should have checked on him this morning, but considering he was already awake and gone before I even awoke, I assumed he couldn’t be too bad off. I checked him over for injuries last night, but… well, I suppose I’m learning that I can only trust my eyes when it comes to Kip.

“He’s napping in the servant’s quarters,” Zero responds. “He was sore this morning, so I made him take a bath and go back to sleep. He was only up long enough for breakfast.”

“I should go check on him,” I reply, but when I climb to my feet, Zero knocks my legs out from under me with a smooth swipe of his leg. I tumble to my ass on the padded surface beneath me. “Zero,” I growl, but he cuts me off.

“Kip is fine,” Zero says sternly. “I made him let me check him over this morning. You taught me the signs of trauma to look for. There was no bleeding or swelling, and he didn’t have a fever or chills. He was responding normally during breakfast with no signs of disorientation. He’s just sore and tired.” Zero hesitates for a moment, then gives me a slanted look. “Actually tired, not… whatever you were doing this morning.”

I don’t even dignify that comment with a response, instead climbing back to my feet and asking, “So what am I doing down here?”

“I need a sparring partner,” Zero tells me. “There’s only so much I can do with the shadow dummy and the practice drones. Their adaptability is minimal, and they can’t react or change patterns like a human. If you’re still planning on letting me compete, you need to get another combat asset for me to train with. If you aren’t, then you still need another combat asset. Since you’re showing me as a pleasure asset, people will expect you to get another bodyguard. They’ll assume my skills will be atrophying, which could make you a target.”

“I thought owners weren’t allowed to harm each other?”

“Not a direct target,” Zero corrects, “but they could try to get to you though me or Kip. It isn’t forbidden for them to harm or kill us. Also, Kip tells me that he overheard a lot of blackmail and private agreements going on while he was a domestic asset.”

That doesn’t surprise me. I’d been expecting as much, given the kind of influential people who get involved in the Leash. Those kinds of people tend not to get their hands dirty, but they can still be dangerous.

“I was already planning on looking for another combat asset, or possibly a covert one,” I tell him. I know already that combat and covert assets have complimentary skills. If I plan to compete in all the divisions, I should have one of each so that they can cross-train with each other. “I was also thinking about getting a domestic asset to help Kip, but now…” I hesitate. Kip is a skilled domestic, but he’s too weak for the strain of that work. I was hoping I could brush up his pleasure skills and give him a less-intensive role as a pleasure asset, but now that option seems impossible. Kip’s pleasure skills are non-existent and he doesn’t seem to have any natural talent at sex. If I put him back solely as a domestic, will he sicken again under the strain? I won’t be able to get another domestic to help, as I’ll have to look for a pleasure asset to compliment Zero. Should I take him out with Zero anyway? I can teach him as we go and try to keep him as protected as possible. But I don’t know if I can keep him protected from everything…

I find myself tumbling to my ass again, cursing as Zero smirks above me. He leans over me as I sit on the floor.

“Don’t think,” he says, “just spar.”

He kicks out at me again, and I roll out of the way. I lunge to my feet and square off against him. I’ve had a good amount of self-defense and hand-to-hand training through the Department. Zero might have significantly more training than I do, but I’m taller and heavier. I should at least be able to hold my own as a sparring partner.

Twenty minutes later, and I realize that I’m hopelessly outmatched.

It’s not only that Zero is faster and more skilled. His body moves and reacts in ways I’ve never seen. He doesn’t commit to any particular move, and can change what he’s doing in the middle of a movement. He can be halfway through throwing a punch and change it into a kick or a jump, just by using his own momentum and changing the way his body moves. He’s also significantly stronger than I expected. I knew he was strong, but to impact his body and feel how the muscles simply don’t move is impressive. More than impressive. A little bit frightening.

He’s also taking it easy on me. Probably even more than I can tell, he’s pulling his punches and leaving obvious openings for me to use. The hits that I manage to make on him are glancing and trivial, mostly blocked by his shoulder or knee. When he hits me, it’s more like a hard shove and they generally send me tumbling backwards. It’s nice to know that I won’t have any bruises that I’ll need to cover when I go to see the new owners, but it still leaves me feeling somewhat insecure about my hand-to-hand skills. Not that physical combat was ever my forte, but I hadn’t thought I was this defenseless.

Still, I enjoy the training. It’s nice to feel like I’m actually doing something, not just making plans and watching everything fall apart. And seeing Zero like this, so focused and relaxed at the same time, is beautiful. There’s a sheen of sweat on his skin and an intensity in his eyes that I don’t get to see as much as I’d like. His shoulders are tensed and muscular; his torso is trim and firm. I really just want to lean in and lick his collarbone. Maybe that’s part of the reason I’m losing so badly.

At one point, I aim a kick at Zero’s torso and he catches it. I feel him rotate my foot just the slightest bit. I can’t even tell- Is he warning me that he could have easily broken my ankle at that point? Or is he simply practicing in case he needs to break someone else’s foot? Angrily, I jerk my foot back and spin, kicking out at Zero’s hip. He’s faster, though, and I have his foot in my lower torso before I even get close. The impact knocks the wind out of me and sends me all the way to my back.

Zero is on top of me before I can get up, and I’m surprised because I didn’t think this was the kind of sparing where you pin your opponent. His hips straddle mine and I don’t even bother to struggle, knowing how skilled he is. He leans over and kisses me, and I realize that the sparring was apparently finished the moment I hit the floor. The kiss deepens and I feel Zero’s tongue teasing at my lips, then slipping into my mouth. I groan against his lips, thrusting my hips as he grinds against me. I’m still energized from the practice and it doesn’t take much to get my cock interested.

“What are you doing?” I wonder, pulling my lips away from Zero’s and trying not to get carried away by his enthusiasm. “What’s going on?”

“Shut up,” he growls, his teeth nipping at the side of my jaw. “You always have to plan for everything. For once, just react to what’s happening now, instead of trying to plan six steps ahead.”

Yeah… okay, he has a point. I mean, obviously it hasn’t been going so well for me anyway.

Our lips meet again, tongues coming into play immediately. I hear a possessive growl in Zero’s throat as he grinds his pelvis against mine. The fabric scratches against my cock, but I thrust back at him anyway. My hands grab Zero’s hips again as he leans over me, taking my mouth in another searing, plundering kiss.

I let him. I know it’s not very masterful of me, but I let him take control. I need… I just need to let someone else step in. Just for a moment.

Zero’s hands are between us, and I feel him shove at the fabric of my pants. My hands tug at his tight shorts, managing to free his cock. He pushes my shorts down to my hips, and then rubs his cock against my length. I’m already hard in a combination of that searing kiss and the adrenaline of our sparring. Or maybe simply watching Zero’s lithe body moving, getting to know how powerful and deadly he is, coming to understand it in a visceral way, maybe all of that turned me on as well.

Zero slides down my body until he settles between my legs. My cock bobs in his face, and he gives it a lick to the underside. It’s a tease and we both know it. I taught him that trick, but it’s no less effective on me, and I groan in plaintive dissatisfaction. He gives me a smirk in response, then takes the tip of my cock in his mouth. I can’t help the involuntary buck of my hips as I gasp from pleasure, but Zero is prepared and moves with me. He laps his tongue at the underside, then wraps his lips around the head. He sucks eagerly, making wet sucking sounds that turn me on even more. I settle my hands on his shoulders and moan again.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Zero complains, pulling at the pants that are now pinning my legs together. I nod in agreement, although I don’t want to stop long enough to pull my clothes off. It can’t be helped, though, and Zero pulls away to shrug out of his own minimal clothing as I wiggle the rest of the way out of my pants. It isn’t dignified, but I can’t manage to care. I pull my shirt off, and then Zero is on top of me again. His warm body slides along mine. His skin feels like silk over steel, his muscles hard and compact beneath his soft flesh. My eyes meet his, and I find myself pinned by those piercing gunmetal orbs. His hair is getting longer. Long enough, now, for me to twine my fingers in the short hairs, and I give in to the temptation and settle my hands in his hair. He leans his cheek into my palm, closing his eyes. He looks younger when his eyes are closed, less intense and wary. It reminds me of his first days with me, when he wouldn’t dare to close his eyes in my presence. It helps to be reminded of how far I’ve come with Zero, especially when I feel like I’m backsliding with Kip every day.

“You’re thinking too much again,” Zero chides again. I can’t help a bark of laughter.

“Can you read my thoughts now?” I ask as he pulls away from my hand. He shakes his head.

“I can see – or, in this case, feel – the way your body tenses when you get lost in your thoughts,” he tells me, and gives me a contemplative look. “You’re… a bit stressed, Master.”

I laugh again, because that’s a hell of an understatement. Zero lets a smile play on his lips and it takes my breath away, seeing him naked and relaxed like this. He leans down again and kisses me, only this time it’s soft and gentle. I can feel the power in Zero’s body, feel his restraint as he moves his lips against mine. It makes it all the sweeter. Zero slides his cock against mine, and I gasp against his mouth. Zero grins again, this time less sweetly and more predatory. He reaches for his discarded clothes, leaning away from me but not dismounting my hips. When he returns there’s a small tube of lubricant in his hand. He must have grabbed it earlier from my supplies and kept it in his pocket. At least, I think it’s a pocket. I wasn’t aware his clothes even had pockets.

“I planned ahead so that we could be spontaneous,” he tells me.

I smile and tease, “You know that’s literally an oxymoron, right? That by planning to be spontaneous, you defeat the purpose?”

“Shut up,” he growls, but there’s no animosity to it, “You’re ruining the mood.”

It makes me laugh again, until he leans over and strokes my cock with his strong, capable fingers. My chuckles turn into a gasp, but Zero is only teasing again. When he has my full attention, he asks, “Would you like to watch me fuck my hole, Master?”

“Yes,” I say breathlessly. Damn, when did he get so good at this? I’ve taught him how to say lewd things without sounding practiced, but seeing it in action is a different matter.

He moves away from me as I sit up, and I see him pop the top off of the lube as he goes. He puts it aside and drops fluidly to his knees. He leans over, with his back toward me, and braces one shoulder on the floor as he twists his body to watch me watching him. His legs are braced open, giving me a full view of his ass. His fingers reach under his body and find his dark pucker, swirling a single digit around his entrance before plunging it inside. He pumps his finger twice, then twines it with a second finger and plunges them both inside. I know for experience that Zero’s body is accommodating and needs minimal prep to stretch his hole. He pumps his fingers in his hole, and I can see his cock bobbing with interest between his legs.

The sight of him taking pleasure from his fingers in his own ass sends a stab of lust through me, and I find my hand seeking out my own cock. Zero’s eyes lock on my hand and he watches my fingers stroke over my growing member. He gives a short moan and adds another finger. With three digits in his hole, I can see his pucker stretching to accommodate the thickness inside it. I give my own low moan as he thrusts them in as far as they’ll go, bucking his hips and fucking himself on his fingers.

“Can I pleasure you, Master?” he asks, and I’m helpless to deny him. I nod, and he disentangles himself before crawling over to me. I lie back, and he wraps his lube-slicked fingers around my cock, giving it a few cursory pumps. The amount of lube he’s smearing on my cock seems a little excessive for rubbing our cocks together while essentially jerking off, but I don’t complain. Zero has never taken such an active role in our sexual encounters, and I don’t want to set him back with frivolous complaints. Then he mounts his legs over my hips and straddles me. I reach between us, eager to feel the slide of his cock along my own.

But Zero moves, and I don’t fully understand what he’s doing until he’s lining my cock up with his hole.

“Wait!” I snap, grabbing his hips and halting his movement. The tip of my cock is pressed against his pucker, with Zero sitting high on his knees and ready to press down on my cock. Only my hands on his hips have stopped him, and from the look on his face I can tell that my efforts are not appreciated. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Having sex,” Zero snaps back. “What are you doing?”

“Zero,” I grit, “You’re not…”

“Don’t tell me that I’m not ready,” he snarls. His body tenses, and I suddenly have the sense that I’m holding a bristling panther above me. I know how dangerous this body can be.

“Zero, listen to me…”

“No,” he growls, his voice hard and determined. “Enough waiting. Enough training. I’m ready. I  _ know _ I’m ready.” He leans forward and says more softly, “Trust me. I’ve trusted you with everything. Now trust me to know my own limits.”

How do I argue with that? I try to figure out a convincing rebuttal, but my fingers relax while I’m distracted. The next thing I know, my cock is slipping into Zero’s body and he’s moaning with pleasure.

“Alright,” I concede, “Just be careful. I don’t want you injured.”

“I know my limits,” Zero reiterates, but he’s hardly even paying attention to me. He’s panting, bouncing gently on my cock, and I can feel the slow slide of it disappearing into his hot body. I groan and reach between us, wrapping my fingers around his hard shaft. Zero gasps as I stroke him lightly, pushing himself further down on my cock. He’s nearly halfway by now, and clearly not experiencing enough pain to put a damper on his lust. There’s a drop of semen pooling at the tip of his cock, and I catch it with my thumb and smear it into his skin. He groans again and rocks his hips, his body suddenly lowering another inch on my dick.

I can almost feel the stab of sudden pain that pierces him, from the way his body tenses and his face flinches. I feel a bit of his weight lifting off of me before he stops himself, never one to run from pain. I put my hands on his hips again, both to guide him and to make sure he doesn’t have some misguided idea about ignoring the warning that his body just gave him.

“Slow down,” I tell him. “You don’t have to take it all at once. Just take a minute to adjust.” While I speak, my hands are guiding his hips, showing him how to make little rocking motions that will help open his body and let him take more of my cock. They also, unfortunately, test the very limits of my control. My cock is aching to thrust, to bury myself in Zero’s warm and more-than-willing flesh, but I restrain myself. I don’t know if it’s possible to scare Zero, but I would never want to harm him either.

“It feels…” Zero says breathlessly, once again taking control and rocking himself more forcefully on my shaft. One of my hands remains on Zero’s hip, while the other slides down to tease his member again.

“Feels like what?” I ask. His face is almost unreadable, in a strange mix of strain and pleasure and pain. I can’t really tell which feeling is predominant at any given moment. He’s sweating more now than when we were sparring, and I try not to take offence that this is actually more effort for him than wiping the floor with me. His body is trembling slightly, but his cock is still hard and weeping in my fingers. If anything, Zero’s arousal has increased.

“It feels…” he tries again, then growls in frustration. “I don’t have the words! It… hurts…” he grinds out, “but it feels good, too. There’s pleasure and pain, and I can’t get them separated. I don’t want to. I want everything. I want to experience all of this moment. I want to feel all of it.” His voice softens, and his eyes meet mine. “For so long, I didn’t feel anything,” he admits. “Not even pain, not really. Now I just want to drink it all in, everything this moment has to offer. Will you help me?”

“O-of course,” I stutter, taken by surprise at the intensity of his plea, “but you have to let your body relax.”

He nods then and lets his eyes slip closed. I move my hands to his side, running my fingers over his skin. I have to take my hand away from his cock to do this, to which Zero makes a disappointed noise, but my stroking only seems to be making him tense more. I run my hands down his sides, over his hips and thighs. After a few minutes, I feel Zero’s body relax further and accept the intrusion of my cock.  

Zero groans again. He’s nearly taken my entire length already, but I know that the last part is the hardest to take. He seems to be stuck only an inch or so from his goal, but this time no amount of gentle rocking is loosening him enough to take the rest of my cock. Zero growls in frustration, then leans forward until his forehead presses against mine. I can feel his sweat-slicked skin against mine, can feel his breath on my cheek.

“I’m trying…” he says, but I cut him off.

“If you have to stop here, I won’t be disappointed,” I assure him. He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to stop,” he tells me. “I want to do this for you… and for me.”

“Okay,” I tell him gently. I cup his face and kiss him gently, then stroke my hands down his neck and shoulders. He groans into my mouth, then sits back and starts rocking again.

“Please,” he begs, and I don’t think even he knows what he’s begging for. His eyes meet mine, and they’re fever bright with intensity. My hands find his and I link our fingers, giving him an anchor to cling to. His grip is almost painfully tight, and I think it helps to ground me as much as it does him.

“Just let go,” I tell him, and I feel his body finally surrender to his will. He gives another hard thrust and finally his thighs settle on top of my hips, my shaft buried fully in his body.

Zero takes a stuttering breath and sags against me. I can feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest, can feel his body trembling around me. I’m so impressed with him that I’m silent for several moments, only realizing belatedly that I should reassure him.

“You did so well,” I praise. “Give yourself a moment to adjust,” I tell him, but already his hips are twitching and restless. His cock is still hard and trapped between us. I think it’s lust more than anything that makes him move, rocking shallowly against me pulling back and moving in earnest. He unlaces our fingers and braces himself on his arms, still rocking his hips slowly.

“I can’t hold still,” he admits, like it’s something to be ashamed of.

“That’s okay. That’s fine,” I assure him. “Do whatever feels right.”

He sits up fully, using only his thighs to lift his body off of my cock and then drop back down in a controlled descent. His hand goes to his cock, but then stutters to a stop just before reaching. His face pained, his hand retreats.

“Please,” he begs desperately, “touch me. Please, Master?”

“Of course,” I tell him, my hand moving immediately to grasp his slick cock. I can’t help that my other hand moves to his face, cupping his cheek and bringing him down into another kiss. The intensity almost overwhelms me, and I have to take a shaky breath to keep my lust from getting the better of me. His lips move against mine, his tongue dipping into my mouth, and I can’t help moving my hips in time with his gentle, rocking thrusts.

“Fuck,” Zero curses as one of my thrusts sends a spike of pleasure through him.

“Yes, we seem to be doing that,” I tease. Zero gives me an unimpressed look, which makes me laugh out loud. Then he grinds his hips down on me and my laughter is cut off by a breathless moan. Zero gives me a smirk, so I stroke his cock until he gives a moan of his own.

“Just like that,” he says raggedly, his body rocking more demandingly on my cock. My hips come up to meet his downward thrusts and I can feel his movements becoming more erratic and desperate. My hand strokes his cock in a more purposeful way, timing my strokes with the movements of his hips. I feel Zero’s body tensing with approaching orgasm. I feel my own completion building but hold it off, wanting to feel Zero’s body clench around me before I finish. I know I won’t have long to wait, with the way his cock is rock hard and nearly purple in my grip, but every moment of waiting is agony.

Then Zero tips over the edge and I feel his body clamp down around me. He growls something incoherent, then his seed splashing in hot spurts across my stomach as his head gets thrown back in a silent scream. My left hand is on Zero’s hip and I use it to pull him down into my upward thrust. I feel the pleasure cresting in me, with Zero’s body clenching down on my cock and massaging me with his inner muscles, and I’m helpless in the grasp of my own need.

I come with a startled cry of my own, both of my hands coming to Zero’s hips to pull him down on my final thrust. I know I’m probably leaving bruises on him, but I can’t control the strength of my grip. With my cock buried in Zero’s heat, I reach my climax, painting his insides with my come. Zero groans and sags against me, and I find that I don’t even have the strength to hold him up. He curls against my chest and I wrap my arms around him.  


	27. A New Plan - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing in end! (Okay, I know I've been saying that for the last ten chapters, but seriously this time. Lol!)
> 
> I can't thank my beta team enough for helping me look this fic over. Akira, Deb, SiaB, LivyC, InterpidEm, and Ygrainne are all doing a great job for me and I really appreciate it.
> 
> As always, Kudos are appreciated and comments are even better. Thanks!

By the time we manage to get our panting, sweat-covered bodies under control, my cock has already receded from Zero’s body of its own volition. I still make Zero let me take a cursory look at his hole, although we were careful enough that I’m confident he isn’t injured. True to my expectations, his entrance is swollen and reddened, but has no signs of blood or bruising. The irritation should fade in a couple hours, sooner if I get him into a hot bath or shower.

I can’t seem to stop grinning. Whether from the leftover endorphins or the fact that I’m finally feeling a tiny bit optimistic about next week’s meeting, I can’t say. Zero lies beside me as soon as I concede that he doesn’t need medical attention. I pull him close against my side, burying my nose in the short hairs on his head. I can practically feel him rolling his eyes at me.

“Are you pleased with my performance?” Zero asks. I nod, knowing he’ll feel it even if he can’t see it.

“More than pleased,” I assure him. “You were excellent. Amazing, even.”

“Does this mean that you’ll no longer need to pursue Kip as a pleasure asset? Now that you can show me individually?”

“What?” I hesitate, taken aback by the abrupt question. “Where is this coming from? I thought you and Kip were getting along better. Why don’t you want me to bring him along?”

“He didn’t do very well yesterday,” Zero says calmly. “Even I could see that. You were making him a pleasure asset to help protect me, and now you know that I’m capable of handling myself. You don’t need him anymore.”

“Is that why you did all this?” I ask, stung. I pull away from him and we both sit up. And here I had thought… Well, I suppose that was stupid of me. “Did you force this just so that I’d let Kip out of being a pleasure asset?”

“There were a lot of reasons that this was the best course of action,” Zero says, annoyance making his tight voice. “Not the least of which was your melodrama this morning.”

I shoot him a glare.

“I wasn’t…” I growl, but I let it trail off. I can’t seem to hold onto my anger. What good would it do me anyway? With I sigh, I let go of my irritation and face the challenge at hand. “I need to show the both of you off,” I tell him, feeling like we’ve gone over this a million times, “partially to give you someone to interact with but also for my own benefit. You two make a striking pair, and I’ll get more attention if I’ve managed to fix both of you than by only showing you.”

“Why?” Zero growls, clearly frustrated. “Why do you need that much attention right away? Why do you need to show the both of us? What are you planning, that you need to rush us both into sexual service? I don’t understand! Zeke, what the hell is going on?”

I look into Zero’s confused and angry eyes, and I know what he’s really asking me. Whether he knows it or not, he’s asking me not to give another lie. He’s opened himself to me and now he’s asking that I do the same for him. He wants me to be honest with him, but he doesn’t understand what that entails. He doesn’t know how big this is or the risks associated with it. He doesn’t understand the danger he’s put in just by being around me, and now he’s asking me to put him in more danger?

I can’t. I won’t. This burden… it’s for me to bear alone.

“My reasons are my own,” I tell him softly but firmly. It hurts me when I have to continue with, “You forget your place, asset.”

He flinches, and I’m not surprised. I almost expect him to storm off in a huff, but instead he grinds his teeth and then says, “I apologize, Master.”

I think that’s the end of it, but Zero makes no move to leave and I just can’t bring myself to get up. I was feeling so good only moments before. How did it all go so wrong?

Across from me, I can practically feel Zero’s mind working. Is he trying to figure out what I’m up to? It’s plausible, I suppose, but it doesn’t feel likely. If he had enough information to figure it out, Zero wouldn’t bother asking me. There’s something else getting to Zero, and I know he wants to tell me. I can’t imagine any other reason that he would stay other than that he has something else he needs to talk about.

“Zero…” I say hesitantly, fully aware that I’ve just shut down the lines of communication between us and hoping desperately to repair some of the damage, “What’s the matter? What’s going on?”

Zero stares at me, his face blank and unreadable for several minutes. I don’t know what he’s looking for in my eyes, but I try to meet his gaze as earnestly as possible. Finally, he says, “I need a doctor.”

“What?” I snap, my eyes darting for an instant to the blue mats beneath him, thinking that I missed an injury. But there’s no sign of blood and I already checked for injuries, so I logically know that our recent love-making isn’t the source. “Why do you need a doctor?”

He gestures to his left side, and my eyes immediately settle on the white, broken-glass scars that cover his left side.

“Your hip,” I say quietly, kicking myself because I should have seen this coming. He all but admitted that it was still hurting him on our shopping trip, when he practically stumbled out of our craft. I should have pushed the topic, should have followed up with further questions when we returned to the privacy of our ship.

I find my fingers reaching for the appendage in question, like the scarred flesh will release its secrets at my touch. I refer to it as his hip, but the truth is that there are shattered scars all along that side of his body. There are white scars nearly to his groin in the front and wrapping around his body to put several of the marks on his left buttock. The scars go high enough on his side that his elbow could brush them and the lowest scar is nearly his mid-thigh. The heaviest proportion of scars are directly on his hip, with density gradually declining further from the center of the impact.

“Does it…” I find myself questioning, but Zero cuts me off. He curls his legs under him, pulling his flesh away from my inquisitive fingers.

“It doesn’t hurt most of the time,” he tells me firmly. We’ve had a lot of fights recently about my over-protective tendencies, so I can’t imagine it’s easy for Zero to admit to a weakness like this. “But it is weaker than it should be. It aches after hard workouts. It isn’t as flexible as it once was. And it’s going to be a liability when I fight.” He peers at me from under his lashes. “If you’ll still allow me to fight in the competition.”

“I won’t stop you from fighting if you still want to,” I tell him quickly. I know that’s the crux of this issue, that Zero thinks I’ll stop him from competing. “I just need to make sure you won’t get hurt. Or,” I change, knowing that some injuries are inevitable, “that your chances of getting hurt are as minimal as possible.”

Zero nods once and I know him well enough to sense his relief, although he doesn’t really show it.

“What do you need me to do?” I ask him. “Is there someone I can take you to? Or…” Zero shakes his head, cutting me off.

“Normal medics won’t be able to handle an issue like this,” he admits. “I don’t know if there’s even anything that can be done for me. Calcium supplements, maybe? I don’t know.” He hesitates again, taking a glance at me to gauge my expression. I try to keep it open and relaxed, hoping he’ll confide in me. “If you buy a scholarly asset trained in the medical field, he might find a way to fix me. You could compete him, if you choose to, but it would be a good idea to have a medical asset in your possession anyway, in case of a serious emergency.” He gives me another sidelong look and says, “Unless you’re actually a doctor?”

“Sadly, no,” I assure him, “although I’ve had some basic medical training.” I want to tell him that we should take some more thorough scans of his hip, but I’m afraid that he’ll question who I’m sending them to. I certainly can’t admit that I want to have the Department’s medical experts take a second look at it. Then again, they didn’t offer any advice when I sent them Zero’s basic scans when I first got him. Maybe there’s nothing to be done for it? Or perhaps my limited knowledge of this ship’s medical equipment is producing inferior scans? It’s hard to say.

“Where can I get a scholarly asset?” I ask after a moment. I want to ask how much they usually cost, but I don’t want to worry Zero about my financial situation. That’s something for me to be concerned about.

“I’m not sure,” Zero responds, “but Kip would know. As a domestic, he’s more familiar with Leash society.”

“It’s a good idea to have a medical scholar onboard,” I assure him. “I was thinking about purchasing one anyway.” Which isn’t technically a lie, since I’d always intended to buy a scholarly asset for the Competition. “How soon do you need me to get one?”

“As soon as possible,” he says, then explains, “The injury isn’t preventing me from training, but it might take time to solve this issue. I don’t know what kind of timeframes we’re dealing with as far as the procedure and my recovery are concerned.”

“So sooner would be better, but immediate is not necessary?” He nods in agreement. “I’ll see what I can do,” I promise. “It might be a good idea to have him look at Kip as well. I’m a little concerned that Kip hasn’t been able to put on weight like he should.”

“Yes,” Zero agrees quickly. “Maybe Kip could benefit from this as well.”

I don’t want Zero to feel like I need another justification for getting a medical asset, though. I mean, it would be nice to have Kip looked over, but I’m more concerned with Zero’s immediate problems than Kip’s general frailty. So I tell him, “I’ll do what I need to take care of you. You don’t need to be afraid of admitting weakness to me. You don’t need to justify your needs.”

“Yes, sir,” Zero responds. I have to hide a flinch, because Zero is never so formal with me. I can almost feel the distance between us now, and it hurts me worse that I put it there.

I sigh, unable to leave things as they are between us. Quietly, I say, “I want to thank you. Whatever your reason for seducing me, I appreciate your initiative.”

“I didn’t do it just for Kip,” Zero replies gruffly. “I did it to help you as well, and to prove myself to you. It simply seemed more necessary since Kip displayed inadequate skills last night.”

That makes me feel a bit better, to know that Zero didn’t force himself through this encounter with me just to make up for Kip’s poor performance. My good mood fades, though, as I remember Kip’s performance yesterday. I rub at my eyes, feeling tired again.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with him,” I admit without really meaning to.

“You aren’t giving up on him,” Zero growls, and there’s a question under the fear and the implied threat. I let it slide, knowing that I’ve created these protective tendencies in him. Zero can’t help it if he’s an all-or-nothing kind of person. 

“Of course not,” I snap back. “I know he’s trying. I just…” I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. “He doesn’t trust me. I’m just starting to realize how little he trusts me. Apparently nothing I’ve done so far  has proven that I’m trustworthy, and I know that I’ve made some mistakes in my handling of him. And now this is the second time I’ve caught him being dishonest with me, so I’m not sure how much I can trust him either.” I pause for a moment, then continue with, “I’m just not sure how to fix things with him. Or how they got this bad in the first place.”

“Can I give you an outsider’s perspective on this?” Zero asks.

“Sure,” I respond with a shrug. “I doubt you can make it any worse.”

“When I was trained, I was taught that one of the easiest ways to mislead your opponent is to give them an expectation and then fail to meet it. If an enemy was led to expect one thing and then I did another, the time lapse while his brain caught up with my actions almost always meant a victory. As a zero, I was trained only to see and prepare for what was in front of me, so I never really understood how people could be blinded to what’s in front of them by their own expectations. I think it’s what’s happening between you and Kip, though.”

He stops, looking to me for a reaction.

“Go on,” I press, genuinely intrigued.

“You expected Kip to be a trained pleasure asset, and you continued under this assumption even when facts pointed to the opposite. Kip let you believe those facts because he was afraid of disappointing you. And Kip is operating under his own set of misperceptions about you.”

“He sees me as a monster in disguise, the same as his previous master and the other owners he’s seen at the Leash. And no amount of evidence otherwise can prove him differently.”

“You’ve put yourselves in a circular loop of failure by your inability to be honest with each other. It isn’t going to get any better unless one of you can let go of your preconceptions.”

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“Just let it go,” Zero answers easily. “Whatever you think you know about Kip, whatever training he should have or things he should know, just forget it. Clear the board. Start over with him. I’m confident that he’ll rise to meet your expectations, as long as your expectations aren’t based on previous experiences that he has no control over.”

“And how do I fix his opinion of me?”

“You can’t,” Zero replies. “Not right away, at least. He’ll have to come to that conclusion on his own.”

“It would be easier if he would stop hiding so much from me,” I say, and Zero is silent in response. I suppose it was a tactless thing to say, given what just transpired between us. He knows that I’m still keeping something from him, or suspects that I am, at least. I’m sure it makes me sound hypocritical, but there’s nothing I can do. I continue with, “Do you think you could submit to Kip? Sexually, I mean. Do you trust him enough?”

“Yes,” he responds unhesitantly. “Why?”

“I don’t think Kip and I will be able to go back to square one with our sexual relationship. After last night there’s too much…” I wave my hand, unable to find a word to describe the shitty situation that happened last night, “…between us. But I might have better luck if I put the two of you together and just act as a guide.”

Zero nods in agreement but says nothing, listening intently to my ideas.

“That being said, Kip has difficulty with anal sex. If I show him to the other Owners, I might have to keep that orifice off-limits so that Kip doesn’t reveal himself as inexperienced. I doubt that he’ll be ready to service me by next week. Maybe he could take your cock, since it’s smaller than mine, but I don’t want to try that right away. I need to start training Kip as soon as possible, but I think another bout of anal sex this early would just traumatize and possible injure him.”

“Agreed. Kip still seemed nervous this morning. I think he’ll need some time to calm down before he tries again.”

“And time is something I really don’t have. If he tops with you, we’ll circumvent the anal sex issue. He also might be more relaxed in a dominant position, as he is not very sexually submissive.”

“Do you think that’s why he panics so much?” Zero wonders. I chuckle.

“No, I think that’s just Kip being paranoid. I don’t think pushing him against his natural inclination helps matters, but I think Kip’s just high strung. It’s something I’ll need to work with him on.”

“Thank you,” Zero says softly, “for not giving up on him. I know he’s been a challenge.”

“He’s not a hopeless case,” I reply. “He just needs some extra work. Hopefully this is the last nasty surprise Kip has in store for me.”

Zero nods thoughtfully, then moves to stand.

“I should train more,” he says, but I reach out and snag his fingers before he can get beyond my reach.

“Wait a bit longer?” I ask. I could order it, could tell him not to go, but I feel like I’ve already damaged our relationship enough for one day. If he really doesn’t want to be around me, I won’t force him. Wouldn’t blame him, at this point.

“What for?” he questions, but it doesn’t seem malicious, just genuinely confused.

“We could take a bath together,” I offer, only now feeling the unpleasant sensation of cold lube between my thighs. “We haven’t done that in a while.”

Zero gives me a perplexed look and says, “We just had sex.”

“Yes,” I gesture to my lap and the sticky mess remaining. “That’s the reason for the bath.”

“But… Won’t that just turn you on again?”

It takes me several seconds to rewind that sentence before I can finally respond with, “You know that bathing isn’t actually one of my kinks, right?”

He gives me a blank look for several seconds, which finally transforms into a smirk. I realize that he’s teasing me again, and I grin more out of relief than actual humor. He helps me to my feet, and I feel optimistic once again. If I haven’t managed to screw things up with Zero yet, then surely I’ll be able to reconcile with Kip.

I have to believe that. Have to believe that my relationship with Kip is salvageable, that trying this again will lead to a better outcome this time.

Because the alternative would damn me, and I won’t become that monster.

Even if Kip thinks I already am.   


	28. The Maze - Kip POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! So this is a bit of an in-between chapter, and then it'll get hot and heavy again before we wrap up at chapter 30. Only five more chapters later than I'd been expecting to end on, but meh. I haven't heard anybody complaining. ;)
> 
> I can't thank my beta team enough for helping me look this fic over. Akira, Deb, SiaB, LivyC, InterpidEm, and Ygrainne are all doing a great job for me and I really appreciate it.
> 
> As always, Kudos are appreciated and comments are even better. Thanks!

              “Shouldn’t you be resting?” comes a voice from behind me. I drop the linens with a start and turn from making the bed. Master is watching me from across the room, arms crossed, his hip pressed against the marble of the decorative fireplace. I blush and turn away from stripping the sheets off of the bed.

              “I slept all day yesterday, Master,” I counter. I’m still a little embarrassed about sleeping for so long, but I was sore and Zero was insistent. I woke this morning well after breakfast, only to find Zero and Master already disappeared into their normal routines. I’d taken a quick shower and had a small breakfast before starting in on the day’s cleaning. First on my list is changing the bedding in the Master chamber. The linens no longer have a fresh scent, although the smell of two day old sex has faded. Normally I change our bed linens every morning, but I missed it yesterday in favor of sleeping.  

              “So you did,” Master Zeke counters, moving closer to the bed. The sheets are a mess, more so now because I’ve only half-stripped them. “It’s okay for you to take some time to rest and recover, you know.”

              “I feel fine now, sir,” I assure him. I fold my hands awkwardly in front of me. I don’t want to resume my chores while Master is talking to me, but I also can’t walk away from a job half-done.

              I blink in surprise as Master by-passes me and climbs onto the bed, still in his shoes and fully dressed, and walks to the center of the mattress. He puts his fingers through the metal rings that are hung from the ceiling above the bed and gives them a testing pull.  

              “What… What are you doing, Master?”

              “Just looking at these hooks,” he responds. He casts a puzzled look to the bed beneath him. “It looks like they’re meant to suspend a person, but hanging them in the center of the bed seems a bit counter-productive. You’d think it would be closer to the edge of the bed, so that the other participant can be on the floor.”

              “You can just remove the bed from the situation,” I tell him helpfully.

              “Oh?”

              “There’s a switch over here,” I show him as he dismounts and follows me. I pull aside one of the draperies to reveal a simple button on the wall. I press it, and the bed recedes into the floor, taking the dirty linens with it. I make a face, realizing that I’ll have to bring it back up to get them. Two panels of the floor slide shut over the hole where the bed is stored, and then the floor under the canopy is indistinguishable from the rest of the floor.

              “How did you know about that?” Master wonders, giving me a curious look. I give him a demure smile.

              “Most of the ships in the Leash are made by the same company,” I explain. “They have some small differences, but they’re all pretty much the same. I’ve been a domestic for a long time, so I’ve worked on several of them. I know most of the tricks this ship has.”

              “I see,” he says. “I hadn’t realized – My secretary bought the ship for me. I hadn’t realized it was so standard to this group.”

              “I don’t know if many of the other owners are aware that their ships are so similar,” I assure him. “The décor is always different, and rooms will be in different locations or used for different things. It’s just that I’ve been all over a lot of them, you know? As a domestic, worked for a lot of different owners. We’d get rented out for events and we’d supplement the existing assets, so we’d be all over the ship to help out.”

              “Did you notice a lot of things like that?” Master wonders. “A lot of commonalities amongst the owners?”

              “Yes,” I reply hesitantly. I’m not sure what he’s trying to find out from me. “It seems like they all get their ships from the same place, and they all congregate in clubs run by other owners. If one of them needs something, there’s always an owner who can get it for them. Very rarely do owners use services from outsiders, and I’ve never seen them socialize with non-owners. It seems like they only do business amongst themselves.”

              “Trying to keep the money circulating amongst themselves,” he says softly, contemplating this new information. “It’s clever. Profitable too, I’d expect.”

              “I wouldn’t know, sir,” I respond. It makes sense, but I’ve never been involved in the monetary transactions. That would fall to a scholarly asset, not a domestic.

              “It’s only conjecture anyway,” Master says. He puts his hand out and cups my cheek, running his thumb along the skin just below my eye. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I know the other night was hard on you.”

           I reach up and cup Master’s hand in my own, but when I pull back he laces our fingers and halts my movement. He pulls my hand out, palm up, and strokes his fingers along my skin. After a moment, he sighs.

              “I didn’t realize...” he trails, staring fixedly at the skin of my palm, “Or perhaps I simply forgot that you’ve got calluses. We’ll need to fix that.”

              “I’m sorry,” I reply, pulling my hand away from his prodding fingers and cupping it against my chest. “I don’t… I mean, I’ve always had calluses. They softened while I was at the Oasis, but they’ve returned since I started cooking for you.”

              “It’s fine,” he says, but he sounds tired. “I’ll show you how to fix them tonight.”

              I feel guilty about the calluses – just another thing Master Zeke will have to fix in me – but I feel irritated, too.

              “Zero has calluses,” I counter.

              “Zero is a combat asset. His calluses remind the other owners that he’s a fighter. I’ll have to smooth them, but I don’t have to eliminate them entirely. Your domestic status doesn’t raise your value, so we’ll need to erase all traces of it.”

              That deflates me immediately. It’s so obvious that I feel a little stupid for having even asked.    Stupid Kip causing more problems. Will I ever manage to be a benefit to my Master? Or will I spend the rest of my days as a burden until Master Zeke eventually tires of my constant disappointment? I must look upset, because Master says, “It’s not a big problem. It just got overlooked, that’s all.”

              “Yes, sir.” I say glumly, then hesitate, “I just… I wanted to tell you…” My throat feels dry and I swallow in vain, trying to clear it. I lace my fingers together, needing something to hold on to, but it just makes the offending calluses grate together. Were they always so abrasive? As a chef, I’d worn them like a badge of honor, but now…

              “I really don’t know how to talk to you, do I?” Master says softly. He’s peering at me, but his eyes are a little sad. “You’re not in trouble, Kip. There’s no need to be upset.”

              “I know. I just…” I want to make him understand that it isn’t just this problem that’s making me feel this way. It’s the combination of a hundred little problems – and some big problems – that I’ve caused for him since I’ve gotten here. It terrifies me to feel like a burden to my Master. I’ve done nothing but slow his progress and fail to meet his expectations. And yet Master Zeke has been nothing but patient while I’ve struggled to regain my health and find my place in his household. I know he must have ulterior motives for keeping me, but I appreciate his kindness anyway.

              I take a breath and say, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about how the other night went. I promise, I can do better if you give me another chance.”

              I’ve said the same thing so many times to this man that the words ring false even to my own ears, despite the fact that I truly mean them.

              Master gives me a soft smile and says, “I don’t need you to be better. I just need you to be honest.”

              “Of course, sir,” I say quickly, ducking my head. It’s not like Master understands what he’s really asking of me. It’s not like he knows how weak and broken and useless I am right now. He can’t understand that my lies aren’t simply for vanity or spite – I’m doing it for self-preservation.

              Master gives a soft sigh and for a moment I think he might know I’m lying to him again, but then he reaches out and brushes a lock of my hair away from my face.

              “I know how hard you’re trying,” he assures me gently, “just don’t give up yet.”

Then he’s gone, walking out of the room and leaving me alone with my empty laundry basket and the hidden linens. I try to shake the feeling that something is going on that I’m not aware of, and go back to my cleaning.

              The laundry is my only pressing chore that morning, and after it’s finished I feel like I need to see Zero. I head for the gym, but it’s silent when I enter. The lights are out, which doesn’t actually mean that it’s empty. Zero routinely practices in the dark, but there’s usually at least something moving inside. I call for Zero, but get no response. I can’t imagine anywhere else he’d be, though, so I tiptoe in. I’m a little nervous to be in Zero’s terrain uninvited. Still, something prompts me to push forward, so I cue up the lights and step inside, calling out again to let him know I’m coming in.

           There’s an area toward the back that I don’t remember seeing before, so I think it must be new. It’s shaped like a cube, with walls made of flat, plastic pieces. The structure is about twice my height. As I near, I see that it isn’t a perfect cube. The top isn’t covered and there are places where it raises higher or sinks lower. It reminds me a bit of a child’s block tower. The construction seems almost random, although knowing Zero it’s probably intentionally chaotic.

              The only door I can find is a small opening in the back that’s so low that I have to kneel to see in. It’s dimmer inside. Despite the top not being covered, there are levels of plastic above that restrict the light. I can’t see more than a narrow, dim tunnel.

              “Zero?” I call again. I hear him call, “In here,” and even from the soft words I can tell that something’s off. It’s all the invitation I need to be down on my knees and crawling inside.

              The tunnel opens into a larger central area, and I’m able to stand again. In the dim light, I see that there are several other tunnels leading away from this one. Some are still low enough that I would have to crawl through them, while a couple are at standing height. There are also some openings above my head. The walls jut out randomly, creating footholds and handholds in the blocks. Along the back is a long section that stands out from the wall, almost like a tall shelf. Zero is sitting on it, tucked into the corner with his knees pulled up to his chest. I approach, but the shelf is above my head with no obvious way to climb up. Knowing Zero, he probably just jumped and pulled himself up, but that’s way beyond my capabilities.

              “Here,” he says, and leans over the side to offer me his hands. I stretch my arms out and he grabs my wrists. I feel a flutter of panic that he’ll jerk too hard and injure me – I’m practically made of glass compared to him – but he lifts me gently and pulls me up. I manage to get myself situated on the platform and he curls back into the corner, his boots braced on the ledge between us.

              “Did the ship always have this set up?” I ask curiously, looking around me. I have a hard time believing I missed something like this.

              “I built it yesterday,” he replies, his eyes wandering over our surroundings like it’s the first time he’s seeing it. “I needed something to do with my hands, something that I could get lost in.”

              “That’s amazing,” I tell him, but he doesn’t react to the compliment. Instead, he points to the wall beside us, taps his finger against the hard surface.

              “These pieces go together like blocks,” he explains. “There’s wire coiled through the center, and they magnetize when you run a current through them. If you turn the current off, the whole structure falls into flat pieces for storage.” He hesitates, then says, “A training maze is a good tool for practice. It can be used with drones or simply as an obstacle course. I had thought that building one would take too much time, but then yesterday…”

              He lets that sentence trail away, and it takes me several seconds to realize that he isn’t searching for words, he simply isn’t going to finish it.

              “Zero, what’s wrong?” I ask directly. Even in the dim light, I can see the redness of his eyes and the tension in his face. Even his shoulders hold more tension than usual.

              He gives a half-hearted laugh and runs his hand across his face.

              “I suppose it was stupid to think you wouldn’t notice,” he says, then leans his head back against the wall. “I had sex with Zeke.”

              “Shit,” is the first word that I can think of, followed closely by an alarmed, “Are you alright?”

              “I’m not injured,” he replies flatly, making me settle back to my seat. I had half-risen already, like I’d be able to check him for injuries on this narrow ledge. “He didn’t hurt me. The sex was pleasurable for both parties involved.”

              “Okay,” I say evenly. I have a hard time imagining that, but then Zero has an astronomically high pain tolerance. What might be unbearable for someone else could be fine or even pleasant for Zero. “Then why are you so upset?”

              He gives another frustrated sigh and says, “It did not go as I planned. I had hoped that by proving myself as a capable pleasure asset I could convince Master Zeke to leave you as a domestic, but he refused.”

              “Zero,” I scold softly, “I don’t want you taking those kinds of risks for me. I can…”

              “It wasn’t just for you!” he snarls, and then grinds his teeth together as he pulls back his temper. “I wanted to show Master Zeke that he could trust me. To show him that I trusted him completely. To make him see that I’m worthy of being trusted in return.”

              “Zero…” I say hesitantly. This conversation has taken a turn and I’m not really sure what we’re talking about anymore. “You trust him, but you’re also his asset. You don’t really have another choice. It’s not the same as trust that’s freely given.”

              “I don’t have to trust him,” he counters. “You don’t. I know what trust it. It’s believing in someone even when they seem wrong. Trust is pushing them even when the backlash almost breaks you.”

              Well that’s… unusually poetic for Zero.

              “I just…” he continues, his voice small and pained, “I trust him. Why can’t he trust me in return?”

              And suddenly I don’t think “trust” is actually what we’re talking about.

              “Did… Did something happen?”

              He sighs and runs another shaky hand through his hair.

              “It was my fault. I pushed him and he pushed back, put me in my place. I should have known better. It’s obvious that he doesn’t want us to know what’s going on. I just felt like…”

              Words fail him, although he grapples with them. With a noise of frustration, he throws his head back. It collides with the wall behind him and makes a dull thud, but he doesn’t seem to notice the pain. His eyes are on the ceiling, but his expression is distant and unsure.

              “It was just sex,” he says softly. “I don’t know why I thought… Master Zeke has had sex with lots of people. I don’t know why I thought sex with me would matter. That it would be different.”

              “You can’t fall in love with an owner, Zero,” I tell him softly. I lay my hand over his, feeling the calluses on my palm rub against the ones on the side of his hand. “They aren’t capable of loving you back. You’ll only ever be an object to them.”

              “I know,” he says, running the shaky fingers of his left hand through his bangs while right hand flips over and laces fingers with mine. “I know!” he growls again. “I just… I don’t…”

              “He makes it hard,” I admit, sliding over so that I can lean against his arm. He moves his feet off of the ledge, lets me curl against his side. He keeps our fingers laced, and I think Zero need this support more than he’d like to admit. After so long of being helped and protected, I’m happy to be able to give something back to Zero. Even something as inconsequential as this.

              “Master Zeke makes it hard not to fall in love with him,” I continue in a gentle tone when we’re settled. “He acts kind and caring. He’s gorgeous. If he’s a monster under all that, then he hides it well.” Even I can admit that it’s tempting. The sense of safety alone is all but irresistible. “But we aren’t equals to him. He isn’t honest, he doesn’t ask for our opinions. He cares about our future only as much as it can benefit him. The choices we make, the lives that we live, it’s all decided by him. We’re hardly more than pampered pets to him and that’s… That’s not love.”

              There’s another long silence, and then Zero gives a frustrated sigh.

              “I don’t… I don’t know what love is. I think I could love him. I think I could convince myself that this is what love is.”

              “It’s not,” I tell him quietly. “You know that. You feel that it’s wrong too.”

              “I want to,” he tells me. “I want to love him. I want to be in love with him.”

              “It has to go both ways. Love. Trust. It can’t be one-sided like this. You can’t give everything and ask nothing in return. That’s not how it is. Love is a partnership. It’s a… It’s a rope to pull you up and hold you together, not a leash to chain you down.”

              “How would you know?” Zero snaps, but I forgive him for it. It’s not easy to get your heart broken, especially one as new as Zero’s.

              “I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve never been in love before, never had the chance to fall for someone. But I know how my grandmother talked about my grandfather, how they were a team, how much he sacrificed to make her happy. That’s the kind of love I want. I can’t… I can’t tell you what to do with your heart,” I tell him honestly, “but I know you deserve that kind of love, too.”

              He blows out a breath and seems to deflate on himself, all the anger bleeding out.

              “So what do I do? How do I act now?”

              “Stay the same, just remember that what you’re feeling for Zeke – the kindness and affection and hope – it’s not love. You can’t fall in love with him. He can never love you back, not in the way you want.”

              He looks away from me then, and we spend several minutes in silence. His fingers remain laced with mine, his grip firm but not painful. Even though he won’t look at me, I can tell that he isn’t crying. Zero is more pragmatic than that. I can almost see him taking the time to piece his heart back together and stitch closed the seams with ruthless efficiency. Whatever inappropriate hopes and feelings he’d held for Zeke, he’s digging a pit and pushing them to the bottom. And in the darkness, it’s silent as a grave.

              “I convinced him to buy a scholarly asset,” Zero says finally. His tone is even and professional, but I don’t blame him for needing to step away from his emotions for a moment. I know that the sheer intensity of them must be overwhelming for him, not to mention the complexity.

              “Did you…” I trail. I trust that Zero wouldn’t reveal my migraines after he promised not to, but I don’t know how else he could justify the expense to Master Zeke.

              “I didn’t tell him about your migraines, but I did tell him about my hip.”

              “Zero,” I chide again, “you didn’t have to do that for me.”

              He shrugs and says, “He would have found out at some point anyway. And he has allowed me to keep training for the competition, so there have been no negative consequences of revealing the injury. It was also necessary to have him start looking for a new asset immediately. We don’t know if the issue with your migraines will escalate.”

              “But…”

              “What?”

              “If the scholar is here to fix your hip, how will we get him to help me?”

              Zero casts me a smirk and a smug look.

              “He’ll help you,” Zero says confidently. “Or he’ll deal with me.”

              I guess I hadn’t really considered threatening the scholarly asset into treating me. Zero’s pretty intimidating, I can’t imagine it’ll be much of a problem.

              “Thank you,” I tell him softly. “It means a lot to me that you would try to help me, even at risk to yourself. I don’t know how to repay you.”

              Zero sighs and shifts, so he’s leaning against me now. His shoulder presses against mine, the weight of his body running along my side.

              “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here,” Zero replies. “If it were someone else, someone who I couldn’t talk to, someone who didn’t care so much and so deeply. These things that I’m feeling… It’s like someone set off a smoke bomb inside my head. Everything is hazy and confused, with this underlying sense of urgency and necessity. Like I can’t breathe and I don’t know where the exit is.” He pauses, then says, “It makes me wish I could go back to the days where everything was clear. When there weren’t any emotions to cloud my judgement.”

              I lace our fingers together and say softly, “No, you don’t.”

              “No,” he agrees just as softly. “There’s happiness now. Hope and affection. All these positive emotions that were hidden from me before. It’s worth the pain.”

           He sounds uncertain, but I know that it’s harder to remember the good times in the midst of the bad. It’s hard to remember love in the middle of heartbreak.

              There’s another silence then, but it’s less fraught this time. Finally, Zero breaks it.

              “Master thinks it will be easier for you to handle sex if you’re in a dominant position. He wants me to submit to you.”

              “No,” I respond firmly. “No, I won’t do that to you. I-I’ll get better at sex. There’s no reason you should have to…”

              “It’s not a punishment, Kip. I volunteered.”

              “Oh…” Honestly, I don’t know how to respond to that. Isn’t it a punishment? Doesn’t it make him feel weak and helpless? How can he see it as anything but a punishment?

              “I trust Zeke, despite the secrets he keeps from me,” he continues. “I trust you as well. I know that you won’t hurt me. I see submission and trust in the same way. I’m giving it to you because I know you won’t abuse it. It isn’t being stolen, it’s being gifted.”

              I try to get my head around that, around the idea of submission being something that can be given instead of taken. It’s difficult, as I’ve only ever seen submission be forced upon someone. The idea that Zero might willingly agree is foreign to me.

              “Try to see it as teamwork,” Zero suggests. “If I volunteer, then you’re not forcing me. You can look out for my best interests while I try to obey your commands. It’s how Master Zeke functions so effectively as a dominant.”

              I take a moment and try to picture Zero submitting to me. The picture is hazy and distorted by images of Zero being injured or upset. Still, if Master wants it, there’s little way around it.

              “Could you do that?” I ask. “Submit to me, I mean. Is it… would that be okay?”

              “I know you won’t hurt me,” he says. “And I do trust Zeke, even if that fact is tangled up with all these other emotions I keep having.” He makes a face, like having emotions is the same thing as feeling nausea or constipation. “I trust you as well. But trust goes both ways. So now you need to trust me not to let you hurt me. Trust me not to put you in a position that you can’t handle. Trust me to know what I can take from you.”

              “But… I don’t…”

              “Maybe this will serve another purpose as well,” Zero says contemplatively. “I’ve only had Zeke dominating me until now. Maybe seeing you in the same position will help untangle whatever’s going on in my head.”

              “I suppose it could…” I say hesitantly. I don’t know if having me in a dominant position will do anything to help unravel Zero’s tangled emotions.

              “Just try,” Zero says tiredly. “I know you can do it. I just need you to know that it’s okay for you to try, for you to want to do this. I want you to dominate me. I’m giving you permission.”

              “Alright,” I agree, feeling uncertain at best. What he’s asking of me, it goes against my instincts. I don’t want to hurt Zero, don’t want to force him to submit. But if he thinks that I can do it without negative consequences, then I owe it to him to give it my best. “I’ll try.”


	29. A New Perspective - Zeke POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super, super short chapter today, but the next on will be out Monday and it's HUGE. It's also the LAST ONE this section. Yay? Or sorry? Thanks for reading!
> 
> I can't thank my beta team enough for helping me look this fic over. Akira, Deb, SiaB, LivyC, InterpidEm, and Ygrainne are all doing a great job for me and I really appreciate it.
> 
> As always, Kudos are appreciated and comments are even better. Thanks!

           I have them in the master bedroom, because I’m hoping it will be the most comfortable place for them. I’m seated on the divan, playing the spectator like Zero did last time. Or, not a spectator, I suppose. More like a referee. I’m hoping that, as an observer, I can step in before anything gets out of hand. Ideally, I won’t be needed at all.

Kip and Zero are just stepping in from getting prepared in the bathroom. They’re quickly becoming comfortable with that routine, to the point that they hardly need any guidance from me. Both are naked, skin glistening with dampness from the shower. Zero’s movements are loose and relaxed, but Kip is tense with nervous energy. He’s always high strung like that.

No, I prompt myself. No past observations about Kip. No prejudices about his demeanor, about his personality or experiences. He  _ is _ nervous. I force myself to stop there. No justifications, no reasoning, just let it be what it is.

Kip’s hands flutter at his sides uncertainly, his eyes look at the bed with a measure of half-hidden dread. He forces his eyes away and quickly covers the look with a sweet, demure smile. His light eyes meet mine and he lowers his head submissively.

“What would you like us to do, Master?”

I want to say, “Kiss like you did last time. Show me that depth and passion again,” but I don’t want to repeat past mistakes with Kip. The point of tonight is to break the loop that I’ve been in, so I need to veer away from the pattern I’ve created with him.

Instead, I say, “I want you to hold each other. Standing is fine, just get used to the feeling of bare skin against your own.”

Kip gives me a quick nod, then turns away from me to face Zero. He steps close, his arms hanging limply at his sides, until his chest is pressed against Zero’s. Then he stops. His fingers twitch nervously, his hands make some aborted movements to reach for Zero, but Kip seems unsure of how to proceed.

Zero meets my eyes over Kip’s shoulder and I nod in reassurance. Zero’s arms come around Kip, adjusting his position and pulling the smaller blonde close. Kip’s cheek rests on Zero’s shoulder, his arms come around Zero’s neck. I can see the tension go out of Kip’s back and the way his hands relax on Zero’s shoulders.

Zero keeps things moving. When Kip starts to relax, Zero tips his chin back and presses their lips together in a kiss. Kip tenses again initially, but then relaxes into Zero’s embrace. Their lips move against each other’s and they both look calm. Comfortable. This is at least one skill that they’ve both had practice in where neither has been traumatized.

The kiss deepens, and Zero takes a step backwards toward the bed, dragging Kip along with him. The back of Zero’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he sits, pulling Kip into his lap. They keep kissing, the movements making the kiss a bit awkward at times but never parting long enough to say that they actually stopped kissing. Zero lays back, pulling Kip to lay along his body. They’re chest to chest, now, creamy skin intertwined with darker olive skin.

Zero wraps his legs around Kip’s waist. This is progressing faster than I’d anticipated, but I don’t intervene. I don’t want to throw them off by reminding them that I’m here, not when Kip has finally relaxed. Zero knows that he’s letting Kip fuck him tonight – I oversaw his preparations myself. I’m more worried about Kip, who’s had catastrophic reactions to sex in the past.

Zero grinds their hips together, using his legs around Kip’s waist for leverage. Kip pulls back with a gasp and some of the tension returns to him. He doesn’t like being trapped in Zero’s hold, pinned by those stronger legs. Even though he’s on top, Zero has him at a distinct disadvantage in strength. I can see the position reminding Kip what tonight is about, unfortunately, and I see his eyes steal a quick glance in my direction.

Zero seems to sense the change, too, and moves to recapture Kip’s attention. He reaches between them instead, taking Kip’s cock and stroking along his own. Kip gives a shuddering breath of pleasure, then rests his forehead against Zero’s shoulder and bucks his hips into Zero’s grasp.

Now that they’re a little deeper into the scene, I feel that I’m safe to approach without throwing them off. I stand and walk casually closer, making sure to keep an arm’s length between us so Kip doesn’t think that I plan to join. It gives me a better view of what they’re doing, now that their actions have moved into the closed circle of their bodies.

Zero flicks his thumb over the head of Kip’s cock, making Kip gasp and buck his hips. Zero’s legs are parted, his knees bent and his feet planted on the bed. He tilts his hips and lets Kip’s cock run along his testicles as Kip thrusts. He’s trying to guide Kip to his hole, which has already been stretched and lubed in preparation. Kip ignores the move, if he even notices, and continues to rub his cock against Zero’s. It seems like he wants to take his time, but Zero isn’t in a mood to wait. Zero takes Kip’s cock in his hand and moves it toward his entrance. Kip makes a startled sound and bites his lip, but doesn’t protest.

          Zero pushes himself to his elbows for better leverage as he lines Kip’s cock up with his hole and uses his legs to pull Kip forward. The tension that has been building in Kip ratchets higher. I can see the almost panicked twitch of his legs, like he wants to shove away but he doesn’t dare. His eyes flit to me and then quickly back to Zero, like he’s trapped between the two of us. He bites his lip, his fingers digging into his palm. He loses focus, his face becomes devoid of expression. It’s like his mind has taken a step backwards, unable to get away fully but unwilling to participate. It must be how he endured sex with his previous owner, by becoming this lifeless doll to shield himself. It confirms my suspicions that Zero, despite his best efforts, isn’t connecting with Kip as well as I’d hoped. 

Kip’s cock is pressed against Zero’s hole, but it’s solely by Zero’s doing. There’s no spark of life in Kip’s eyes, no hint of interest or pleasure. Zero might as well be fucking himself with a dildo for all he’s getting through to Kip. It’s the opposite of the results I wanted to see tonight, and as Zero tenses his legs to pull Kip in, I intervene.  

“Stop.”

Zero shoots me a glare but stills. Kip casts me a wide-eyed look and remains silent.

“Separate,” I demand. “This isn’t what I want.”

“You wanted him to fuck me,” Zero growls, even as he releases Kip and falls back to the bed. Kip climbs off the bed and takes a couple shaky steps backwards. It’s hard to miss the relief in his stance, even if he tries to hide it from his expression.

“Yes,” I counter, “I wanted him to fuck you. I did not want you to fuck yourself on his cock, which is what you were doing.”

I don’t point out that Kip was clearly uncomfortable or that forcing Kip to top could be just as damaging as forcing him to bottom. Zero isn’t subtle like that, it would be difficult for him to understand the subtleties of Kip’s issues. For someone like Zero, who has very rarely felt physically weak or uncertain, Kip’s entire existence is probably puzzling and contradictory. I don’t have time to explain that, even though Zero was in the sexually receptive position, he was in no way being submissive to Kip.

“We’re going to change tactics,” I explain patiently. Zero rolls his eyes and covers his face with his arms. He blows out a frustrated breath before looking at me again. Kip, meanwhile, stands awkwardly to the side, looking small with his arms wrapped protectively around himself. It makes me think that I made the right choice, stopping them when I did. Perhaps I should have intervened sooner.

“Kip, I want you to go down to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of tea. I will call for you when I want you to return.”

“But I…”

“You’re not in trouble,” I assure him, seeing the nervous and guilty expression flit across his face, “but this isn’t working, so we’re going to change tactics. I need a few minutes alone with Zero to set things up, and you need some time to settle your nerves.”

I motion for Zero to leave the bed, and he climbs to his feet with another sigh. Zero trusts me to take care of him during sex. He has confidences in my abilities and my protectiveness when it comes to my assets’ sexual training. That being said, Zero is growing impatient with our training and headstrong with his own desires. He needs to be brought to heel, and Kiplan needs to be shown how to trust his own dominant nature.

Perhaps I can take care of both aspects tonight, if I can set the scene properly.

Kip casts a last look over his shoulder as makes his exit, and I see his eye fixate on the bed as it disappears into the floor. Zero casts me a questioning glance as well, but he seems more curious and intrigued than concerned. I see Kip falter in his steps before peeling his eyes away and disappearing out the door.

I’m taking a gamble that I know Kip’s sexual nature better than he knows it himself.

I can only hope that it pays off.


	30. Final Dominance - Kip POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This is the LAST CHAPTER for this section! Thanks for making it this far with me! If you haven't taken the time to leave a comment or kudos before now, please just let me know that you made it far! 
> 
> A couple people have asked me about how long this hiatus will last. The honest answer is that I really don't know. In the last two sections, I had already started writing and gotten pretty far ahead on the next section before the previous one ended. At this point, I'm all out. :( I've had some stuff going on and I just haven't been able to write lately. I'm thinking it's going to take me a few months to catch up. At worse case scenario, I can't see myself being on hiatus past October. Hopefully you guys can hang on that long!
> 
> While I'm on hiatus, I will still be working on [My Website.](http://ryoko21.weebly.com/) I do a lot of things there, but mostly I'm looking to post updates on what I'm doing and reading, along with reviews of other free fiction that I find available on the web. 
> 
> Once again, I have to give credit to my beta team. They've helped me a lot so far and I'll be relying on them even more when I don't have these reviews to help guide my writing. So, once again, I want to give a sincere thank-you to Akira, Deb, SiaB, LivyC, InterpidEm, and Ygrainne. 
> 
> That's all I've got! I hope you enjoy this chapter and honestly I'm going to miss you guys SO MUCH! Thanks for sticking with me so far!

           I don’t know what I’ll find when I return from the kitchen. I don’t let myself think about it, don’t let myself wonder if I’ve made things worse for Zero with my latest failure. What is Master Zeke doing to him? Is Zero being punished because I couldn’t perform? No, I can’t think about it. My hands shake as I put aside my tea cup after only a few sips. I pace nervously, checking my tablet every few seconds to see if it’s time to go back. When the time finally comes, I all but sprint to the Master chamber, terrified that I’ll find Zero being punished.

If it is a punishment, it’s none that I’ve seen before.

            Zero is suspended above the area where the bed used to be. He’s on his back, but his arms are tied behind him with red, silk fabric. His arms are positioned with his hands on his elbows, but it doesn’t look uncomfortable. The rest of the ropes binding him are black and no thicker than my index finger. The black cords are wrapped intricately around his torso, creating a diamond pattern up his back. His legs are bent, with his knees tied to his thighs by the same silk fabric as his arms. His legs are tied separately, though, and the tension of the ropes to the ceiling holds his knees apart. There’s one final piece of red silk wrapped behind Zero’s head, supporting his neck and tilting his face so he can see what’s happening. Then the whole complex set of bindings comes together above him until it merges and supports itself on only two of the hooks above the bed.

Entranced, I hardly notice that I’ve crossed the room until I’m standing just inches away from Zero. His dark, silver eyes find mine. His face is nervous, but not fearful. There’s an expectant air to his form that’s neither frightened nor excited. It seems that, typical of Zero’s training and attitude, he needs more information before he decides if he likes this or not. The uncertainty only makes him seem more human, and gives the image a softness that Zero’s warrior body belies. 

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, unable to help myself. The intricate bindings, far from concealing Zero’s form, serve to enhance the natural lines of his body. The ropes keep Zero’s body in a constant state of slight flex, so his muscles are taut as he holds himself steady in his bindings. The position is vulnerable but the bindings emphasize Zero’s power and it’s just…

“He looks gorgeous like that, doesn’t he?” Master asks, and I spin to face him. I’d almost forgotten he was here. I find him still fully clothed, leaning casually against the wall behind me. “Suspending him was the only way I could think of putting him in a submissive position without upsetting you. I didn’t think you’d be any more relaxed downstairs in the playroom.”

“N-no, Master,” I confirm. Even the thought of going down there makes me nervous. My anxiety comes more from the room itself, I think, than the implements inside. I’m well aware that Master could bring any of those items here to use, but I’ve had two bad experiences in that room, and I’m in no hurry to add a third.

“I thought as much,” he says, “So I suspended Zero here for your pleasure.”

“For my…” Cold dread seeps through me, remembering that Zero is here for me to use, to fuck. And now he’s restrained, all because I couldn’t do it right the first time. “No. No, I won’t do this. Not while he’s restrained. I won’t…”

           “Do you actually think this can hold me?” Zero snaps, clearly offended. Hard eyes find mine and there’s nothing in them except actual offense. “My arms are wrapped in  _ silk _ ,” he says, and spits the word like an insult.

“Expensive silk,” Zeke corrects, using a finger to push at Zero’s knee. The small movement makes Zero swing in his bonds. “So don’t rip it.”

“But… Master…” I protest. Even if Zero says he could get free if he wanted to, I know that he won’t disobey Master’s orders. I’m not sure I can take advantage of him like that.

“Kip, I am  _ fine _ ,” Zero growls. He’s getting legitimately angry at me, but still I can’t make myself move.

“It’s alright, Zero,” Master says. “Kip doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to.” There’s something underlying those words, something he’s got planned that makes me almost sick with uneasiness. What is he planning? What is he going to make me do to Zero? “There’s one more thing I need to add anyway.”

There’s a case on one of the tables near the wall, and Master walks over to it. When he returns, he has a light pink control box in one hand, connected by a length of cord to a very small phallic object. I’ve seen enough sexual demonstrations to recognize a vibrator, although Zero stares at it curiously.

“We haven’t used one of these on you yet,” Master says to Zero, ignoring my presence entirely. “This is a toy that emits low, pleasurable vibrations.” Master turns the toy on, which emits a very soft buzzing sound. He runs the phallic piece up the inside of Zero’s thigh. There’s a bulbous head to the vibrator and then a slim body, but the whole piece isn’t much larger than a finger. Master lets the vibrator follow the curve of Zero’s body, dipping it along Zero’s inner thigh until he finds Zero’s flaccid cock.

As Master teases Zero’s testicles with the vibrator, Zero’s cock takes an immediate interest. By the time Master runs the vibrator along the underside of Zero’s cock, it’s almost fully hard. Master runs the vibrator along Zero’s length until a bead of come glistens at the tip, and even then Master touches the vibrator to that bead of glistening moisture, creating a strand of sticky wetness as he pulls it away. Zero groans and bucks in pleasure, but he doesn’t have the leverage to do much more than wiggle in his bindings.

I feel my own cock grow hard, grateful that neither Master nor Zero is looking at me. It’s shameful to be aroused when my friend is being tormented so. Still, I can’t help but react to the sight that Zero makes, helpless and suspended, his pleasure being ruthlessly exploited.

Master dips the vibrator lower now, teasing it behind Zero’s testicles and then lower still, until it’s pressing against his entrance. Zero groans and bucks his hips as the vibrator adds Zero’s own precome to the lubricant that’s already covering his hole. Zero’s body tenses, trying to get more leverage. There’s a high-pitched, pained noise coming from the fabric holding Zero’s arms, a warning that it isn’t going to take this strain for much longer. Master pulls the vibrator away. Zero sags against his bonds and the noise stops.

“The fun part about a vibrator like this,” Master tells Zero, “is that you don’t have to worry about losing it. With the cord, you can always pull it back. So you can use it for something like this,” Master says, and shoves the entirety of the small vibrator inside of Zero’s ass, leaving only the pale pink cord dangling from Zero’s pucker.

Zero gives a startled noise, his hips bucking again. He hardly seems aware of his body as he thrashes, groaning in pleasure. His cock bobs in excitement, another bead of come gathering at the tip.

“Master!” he groans. “Please!”

           But Master doesn’t touch Zero, merely letting him thrash in his bonds until he finally sags against them. Then Master turns toward me, addressing both of us.

“Here’s how this goes,” Master says, his voice firm but still giving a hint of amusement. “You can touch Zero anywhere you’d like. You cannot make him orgasm until the vibrator is removed. If you remove the vibrator, you must replace it with your cock. However, you are not required to do any of these things. Despite what Zero seems to think, you cannot die from sexual frustration. At some point, I will decide that this exercise is over and I will release Zero from his bonds.”

It’s a wicked game, and I have to bow my head to keep from glaring at Master. He approaches me softly, tips my chin so that I must face him. I keep my eyes on the floor until he calls my name. Meeting his gaze, I try to keep the heat from my expression, but I don’t think I’m very successful.

“I know this is upsetting to you,” Master says. His eyes are soft with compassion, but it is a false expression. If he had any sympathy for me at all, he would not make me do this. “I wouldn’t force this if I didn’t think it was essential.”

           “Yes, sir,” I respond flatly. Essential for what? Why does he get to decide what I need and what I don’t? I’m bristling inside, bucking against his commands. Who gave him the right to demand this of me?

I haven’t had trouble accepting authority like this since I was first taken. It’s been years since I last questioned a command. But then, it’s been years since I felt this far out of my depth. This is all new to me, not the sex itself but the extent of it. Master Zeke has pushed me far outside the bounds of what I’ve experienced before. Now he’s asking me to let him bend my will to his own, to change essential aspects of my personality. Do I trust him enough to let him? Can I believe that he won’t turn me into a monster?

“I know this is a painful transition for you,” Master continues as I hesitate. “I know this goes against your protective nature, because you see sex as a tool for coercion and pain. I need to show you that this isn’t the case, and I need to bring out the strain of dominance in you. No, don’t deny it,” Master says as I open my mouth to protest. “It isn’t something you can change. Your nature is to protect and defend. You take orders, but you would prefer to lead and command. You do not trust easily, and never blindly.”

“I’m sorry, Master,” I say, but he ignores me. The description he’s given is true, but I don’t know how he can say it without any hint of anger. The way he’s described me is so different from what an asset it supposed to be.

“I need you to understand that sex isn’t just about pain, and that dominance isn’t just about forcing others to obey. I’m sorry this upsets you. I understand why you don’t like this.”

“ _ I  _ don’t like this,” Zero growls, pulling out attention back to where he’s writhing in his bonds. It’s a petulant complaint, and I can tell from his voice that he isn’t in pain. A glance his way shows no signs of distress, so I turn my attention back to Master, who’s smiling grimly.  

“Then ask Kiplan to help you,” Master responds, and backs away to the far wall, leaning there to watch. I hesitate several minutes, casting my glance between Master and Zero uncertainly. 

“Kip,” Zero calls, as much of a whine in his voice as he’s probably capable of.

“Yes,” I say quickly, practically tripping as I move, “I’m coming.”

           I approach him, but Zero’s eyes are closed. His hips thrust helplessly, only able to move a few inches in the bindings. Zero’s cock is fully erect, a bead of semen dribbling down the side of his shaft. Damn Zeke for these twisted games, but Zero is so beautiful like this. I can’t help but run my fingers across his skin, skimming from his knee to his thigh. He shivers and casts a plaintive glance at me. I stumble backwards.

“I-I’m sorry…” I stutter.

“Don’t just leave me like this,” Zero growls. I hesitate again, and then put my hand on his knee.

“I… What should I…”

“Would you fuck me already!” Zero snaps.

“That’s enough,” Master Zeke intervenes, peeling himself from the shadows of the room like a phantom. He walks to the bedside table, and then returns with a gag in his hands.

“No…” I protest, moving to physically block Zero’s restrained form. “You don’t have to…”

“The point of this isn’t to show you how to obey Zero,” Master argues. “You’re not learning anything by having him order you around.”

“But…”

“Don’t gag me,” Zero interjects softly. His subdued voice captures both our attention. “I’ll stop. I didn’t mean… I’m just not used to this.”

Master nods and puts the gag aside. He walks over and lays a hand on Zero’s shoulder, runs his thumb along Zero’s cheek. Zero lets his eyes slip closed and leans his face into the touch.

“I know this is a hard reversal for you. I know you’ve spent a lot of time being at odds with Kip, and now you’ve just recently started being friends with him.”

That’s not it, I think but don’t say out loud. It’s not that Zero doesn’t want me this close, it’s that Zero doesn’t want to be vulnerable while I’m here. He’s spent so much time lately trying to protect me, he’s having a hard time giving up those instincts.

But I can’t let him protect me forever. I can’t be this weak person, afraid of his own shadow, his own instincts. I have to be better for him.

I step closer, and my fingers find Zero’s skin. He casts his eyes to me, and in a second I know that he understands all the things I’ve been thinking.

“I’m willing to try if you are,” I tell him, generic enough that Master won’t understand.

With the limited amount of movement his bindings allow him, Zero nods to me, then lays back and shuts his eyes. He’s put his faith and his body in my hands.

I won’t fail him.

My fingers start at his knee and move down his inner thigh. He’s hung at roughly hip-height, so I’m looking down at his erect cock, watching it twitch and leak between my caresses and the vibrator’s constant assault. Zero’s body is tense, covered by a slight sheen of sweat as he strains in his bindings.

My fingers find Zero’s cock and wrap loosely around the shaft. It’s shorter than Master’s, although it’s thicker and perhaps a bit longer than my own. Just the light touch of my hand on it makes another drop of come bead at the tip and dribble down the side, adding itself to the weeping stream from earlier. Zero gives a low moan as I stroke his cock slowly.

“Don’t make him come until you’re inside him,” Master cautions me. I didn’t really need the warning, as I had already assumed that would be part of the game. I nod my head absently, continuing my light strokes on Zero’s cock.

“Please, Kip,” Zero moans, but this time there’s nothing demanding in his voice. He shivers as my fingers dip lower, stroking along his testicles until I find his exposed entrance.

My own cock is hard between my legs, not weeping like Zero’s but certainly begging for attention. Zero is beautiful, spread out before me. Even I can’t deny the arousal I feel at having someone as strong as Zero restrained and at my mercy. I want to give him pleasure, want to make him howl my name and pass out from the intensity of his orgasm. Is this how Master feels when we’re bound for him? But that doesn’t seem very likely, considering that I want Zero to be here of his own volition and Master is willing to force us into submission. I’d like to think that there are fundamental differences between the two of us, but my own inclinations frighten me. What if we’re not that different?

I can’t think about that right now. I need to focus.

My cock jumps in excitement when I press a finger against Zero’s pucker, feeling the warmth of his body trying to pull me inside. I trace my finger around the cord that’s still hanging from Zero’s ass, testing the slickness of the lube we applied earlier. From what I feel, I know that Zero could still take a cock easily and won’t be hurt when I pull the vibrator out. I tug on the cord and Zero gives a strangled noise.

I know it would be kinder just to pull the vibrator out. I know that Zero is sensitive and that this punishment is undeserved and mostly my fault. But he just looks so beautiful like this, so debauched and unrestrained. Giving a pained noise of my own, I press my finger into Zero, pushing the vibrator deeper and feeling the soft vibrations all around my finger in the tight confines of Zero’s body. Zero surges in his bindings, his head coming up and his eyes snapping to me.

“Kip!” Zero growls, part shock and part offence.

“Zero,” Master Zeke calls warningly from the side of the room. Zero shudders and lays back. Whatever I want to do, he’s submitted to my will.

I push a second finger in beside the first. Zero groans again, but the second finger pushes the vibrator no deeper, so he doesn’t react like the first time. I use my fingers to catch the cord of the vibrator and pinch it between them. I pull on the cord, pulling the vibrator until the bottom is against Zero’s entrance, then thrust my fingers back inside. He yells in pleasure but doesn’t fight me, doesn’t break himself free of the bindings. I know Zero can take a lot of torment, but I’d like to think he’s enjoying this just a little. When I find his eyes, they’re cloudy and fever-bright, staring at me with intensity and just a bit of surprise. I suppose he hadn’t expected this from me. To be honest, I’m a little surprised of myself.

My free hand skims along Zero’s thigh until it finds his testicles. The skin is soft and smooth in my fingers, devoid of hair because of Master’s beauty regimen. I tease the skin, pulling it gently sometimes, cupping and kneading the balls at others. I don’t dare play with Zero’s cock, knowing that he’s hovering just at the edge, but I can’t keep my hands off of him. The half pleasure, half pained sounds that he makes are intoxicating. Addicting, even. I can’t seem to stop myself from toying with him, from seeing how close to the edge I can get him without pushing him over.

I know Zero is waiting for me to take the vibrator out. It would be the kind thing, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Damn me, but I want to feel those vibrations around my cock when I penetrate him. I want Zero to feel like my cock is vibrating against his inner walls. I want him so overwhelmed with sensation that he can’t think of anything else but me.

“I want to fuck you with it still in,” I whisper. There’s a question in my voice, and I don’t want Master to hear it and intervene again. I doubt that this will hurt Zero – he takes Master’s cock, certainly he can take mine and the little toy – but I also know that Zero is sensitive. I don’t want to push this encounter into actual unpleasantness if I can avoid it.

“Do it,” Zero hisses. His hips buck in excitement. It’s all the encouragement  I need to line my cock up with his hole and push inside. Zero makes a strangled noise, but I can hardly hear it over my own low, long moan. Zero’s body is so hot and tight around me, pulling my cock inside and then wrapping it in the vibrations from the sex toy. I feel my cock hit the tiny piece of plastic and push it deeper. Zero’s cock jerks and he moans, another bead of precome dribbling down the side.

Buried fully inside Zero’s body, I manage to still myself. My hand reaches for Zero’s cock, but he stops me.

“Wait,” he gasps. It’s not quite begging, but neither is it a command. “Fuck me first.”

My hand falls back to his hip. I don’t dare question him or ask if he’s sure, not with Master watching us and still threatening to gag him. Zero knows his own limits, knows how much I care about him. I trust that he would only ask this if he’s sure he can handle it.

I snap my hips, making Zero gasp. The feeling is intense, with the combination of the vibrations and Zero’s heat. It’s a little awkward on my feet, not to mention with my inexperience as the penetrative party. Still, I manage to get a rhythm to my thrusts. My hands find the ropes that are holding his hips and move to them. After a couple of tries, I find that I’m standing still and using the ropes to swing Zero toward me, using a pendulum motion to fuck him on my cock.

It’s not long before I start to lose coherency. I’m not surprised, given that this is my first time as the dominant party. Master created an intense situation for us, and I’m not sure I can handle it. I feel the pleasure building in my core and settling behind my cock. Even the little bit of effort I’m making to fuck Zero has my weak body panting. There’s a sheen of sweat on my body that’s making it difficult for me to hold the ropes and guide Zero’s motion. My legs are shaking and I struggle to remain standing while pleasure burns its way through me.

And all the while, Zero writhes and moans in his bindings, never struggling to get free or demanding to be pleasured. He’s so beautiful like this, debauched and unrestrained. There’s a natural power to him that reminds me of solid steel. I can’t deny the excitement I feel at the thought of being the one to heat his steel to the point of bending, to craft him to my own desires.

Damn me, I can’t help but get off on these twisted games.

My orgasm hits me hard; I don’t think I’ve ever come like this. My body locks up, my hips thrusting helplessly into Zero’s hole. I think I scream, and it’s like my essences is pouring out of me and into Zero. When it finishes, I feel drained. I pull my limp cock from Zero’s body and have the forethought to at least turn off the vibrator. It’s as much as I can manage, though. I stumble, my legs suddenly unwilling or unable to support my body. I would have fallen, but arms grab me from behind and lower me gently to the ground.

“Looks like you’re a bit much for Kip,” Master says as he helps me struggle to one of the chairs along the wall. I’d forgotten him again, my mind completely focused on Zero. “Maybe this was a bit intense for his first time.”

Master’s voice is like honey, his movements smooth and sure as he puts me aside and turns back to Zero. Whatever small amount of dominance or leadership I might have shown here tonight, it pales beside Master Zeke’s innate power and confidence.

Zero is still writhing in his bindings, his cock an angry purple. Master approaches him slowly, taking a long moment to look down at the asset before him. Master’s clothes are gone, and his body is all sleek lines and strong muscles. When did he even undress? I have a hard time imagining that I was so caught up with Zero that I missed Master undressing, but the proof is here. Master’s engorged cock juts out proudly, as long and intimidating as ever. Master’s golden hair cascades around his shoulders as he shakes his head at Zero.

“What a mess Kip made of you,” Master chides with a click of his tongue, but his voice doesn’t sound angry. He seems almost excited by the prospect.

Zero makes a noise, but whether it’s assent, dissent, or simply another desperate sound of pleasure is impossible to tell.

“He left your hole all wet and fucked open for me,” Master says, and then buries three fingers in Zero’s ass. Zero makes a strangled noise, which cuts off only when Master pulls the disengaged vibrator from Zero’s body. Holding it up, Master says, “I don’t think we’ll need this any more,” and then tosses the toy over his shoulder. The cord and controller follow like a long tail, and the whole thing lands with a soft noise on the carpet.

“You’ve been toyed with for the last hour,” Master says, stepping around Zero and kneeling beside Zero’s head. “Would you like to be fucked hard now?” I see Zero nod, see his eyes fixate on Master’s face. “Then convince me that you want it.”

Zero’s hands are tied, so he can’t reach out to Master like I know he wants to. Still, he manages to twist his entire body in the ropes so that he can face Master. He slips his head free from the sling supporting his neck, giving him more range of movement with his face. He meets Master’s lips wet and hungry. I see his mouth open to let Master’s tongue slip inside, and then Zero’s own tongue darts into Master’s mouth. Zero moans low as Master takes Zero’s face in his hands, holding him steady. For long minutes there’s nothing but Master and Zero kissing, accompanied by wet sounds and low noises from Zero.

Finally, Master pulls back and stands. He puts Zero’s head back into its sling and then walks around Zero until he’s standing between Zero’s legs. The height Zero is set at is a little short for Master, and it puts Zero just below Master’s pelvis. It doesn’t seem to be a significant problem, though, considering the length of Master’s cock. Master is still hard, and his size is more than enough to make up for the discrepancy in height.

Master takes a hold of Zero’s knees, and without preamble he buries hard cock in Zero’s body. Zero screams, but not in pain. His hole, as Master mentioned earlier, is already loose and wet from sex with me. As Master pushes in, I can’t help but wonder how much of the slickness he feels there is from my orgasm. How does Master feel, knowing my seed marked Zero first?

Apparently fairly good, if Master’s enthusiasm is anything to go by. His first thrust buries his cock to the hilt, then he immediately uses Zero’s knees to hold Zero back as he pulls out, and then buries his cock a second time. He continues this brutal pace for only a few more thrusts before Zero shouts, “Please, Master!” Zero’s voice is wrecked – he’s so overwhelmed that he seems next to tears. Knowing Zero, I doubt that it’s true. Anyone else would have been sobbing hours ago, but Zero is too strong for that. Still, even I can admit that pleasure unnerves Zero in a way that pain never does.

Master shallows his thrusts and leans over Zero.

“What do you need from me?” Master asks.

“Let me come,” Zero begs, his voice still thick and overwrought. His eyes are bright and overwhelmed, his face and body covered in sweat. I don’t know how much more of this he can take. “Please, Master, please.”

Master’s hand moves to Zero’s cock, taking the swollen flesh in his fingers. This time Zero does make a noise that sounds pained, but he chokes it back as Master gently strokes his sensitive flesh. Zero’s hips try to thrust, but they manage only to wiggle in the confines of the bindings. Zero makes a choked, frustrated noise.

“Stop that,” Master says sternly. “You’ll come when I let you,” he tells Zero, and continues his soft, slow strokes. Zero makes a noise close to a whimper – perhaps it is a whimper – but Master refuses to speed his hand. From my vantage point, I can see why Master is being so cruel. Zero’s cock is so swollen and hot that any stronger stimulation might be too much for the neglected organ. Master’s slow strokes keep Zero feeling only pleasure, where anything stronger would probably feel painful. What feels like torment to Zero is actually Master doing him a kindness.

And possibly still toying with him.

Despite Master’s slow strokes, I can see Zero’s orgasm building. His cock glistens with precome, and Master stops his strokes just long enough to spit on Zero’s cock, adding saliva to the natural lubricants there. Master’s hand glides smoothly over the slickened skin, the head of Zero’s cock weeping again and turning an angry red. Zero’s body tenses in the ropes, making his bindings strain as he arches. The ropes give a whine and I see the ones holding his legs start to fray, but they hold as Zero’s cock finally spurts, sending pearly white come splattering all across Zero’s torso. Zero yells as the orgasm hits him, but sags in his bindings only moments later.

“Don’t think I’m finished with you,” Master warns him as Zero lays practically unconscious in his nest of frayed ropes. “I’m the only one who hasn’t been satisfied yet.”

Master pulls his hand away from Zero’s cock, putting it on Zero’s knee and then snapping Zero’s hips forward. Master’s cock is still buried in Zero’s body, and the motion thrusts it deeper. Zero gives a ragged, exhausted moan and shivers, overwhelmed with sensation. But Master is relentless, rocking Zero’s body against his cock.

“Damn, it’s nice feeling you all relaxed like this,” Master growls, increasing his pace. “You were so tense last time that I hardly got to enjoy pounding this ass. Tonight you’re all stretched out from Kip and relaxed from your orgasm, and I can punish your hole without fear.”

“Yes,” Zero says raggedly, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard!”

Master snaps his hips again, sinking his monstrous cock into Zero’s pliant body, and then comes with a shout. Even Master seems out of breath with his orgasm this time, and he leans heavily on the ropes supporting Zero as he catches his breath. Strands of Master’s golden hair stick to his face, and there’s a bead of sweat running down his back. He looks beautiful like that – like a statue come to life. I wonder how I looked in the same position. I doubt I can even compare to Master Zeke.

It doesn’t take Master Zeke long to recover and push himself to his feet. Zero seems to be in no hurry, his eyes half-lidded as he hangs lethargically in the ropes. Master comes to Zero’s head and I see Zero’s eyes flick toward Master’s face, but no more movement than that.

“You okay?” I hear Master ask softly. Master’s hand comes up to brush through Zero’s bangs, pushing some of the short, wet hairs away from Zero’s forehead. Zero is too exhausted to even verbalize a response, and I see him give Master a tiny nod in reply. “Hang tight for a minute,” Master continues, “I’ll get you out of this just as soon as I check on Kip.”

Then Master is approaching me and I have no idea what to do. Should I stand? Kneel? Put my head against the floor? But then he’s right in front of me and I haven’t done any of those things.

“Was that what you wanted to see?” I ask without thinking. There’s no malice in the question, no subservient bid for approval either. I just want to know.

“Are you asking if I found that arousing?” Master replies. “Of course I did. You two are beautiful together, just as I’d anticipated you would be.”

“Is it… Did we succeed, then?” I can only hope he says yes. I can’t imagine what I’ll do if I put Zero through all that and still managed to fail whatever test Master was giving me.

“This isn’t about success,” Master says cryptically. I have to bite down on a snarl. Would it be too much to ask for a straight answer?

Master must sense my frustration, because he sighs and says, “For the first time tonight, you managed to forget everything else and just be yourself. No expectations, no secrets, no jockeying for position. Just you taking what you needed from Zero, who was more than willing to give. You finally let go, Kip, and it was beautiful.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. I don’t even bother trying. Instead, I ask, “Is Zero okay?”

“He’s tired, but he’ll be fine. I wanted to ask if you could go run a bath? I need to get the sweat and fluids off of his skin before I let him go to sleep.”

I push myself shakily up from the bench that I’d been sitting on and find my feet uncertainly. I don’t know why I’m so exhausted. I don’t think my actions were that physically exhausting, so I can only attribute it to the mental strain.

As I step out of the room, I hear Master speaking in low tones to Zero and the sound of rope being cut. Zero must have damaged his bindings badly enough that they couldn’t be salvaged. Still, Master’s voice doesn’t sound angry about it, so I feel comfortable stepping into the master bath and filling the submerged bath there with lukewarm water.

By the time Master and Zero appear, the bath has nearly filled. Guilt nips at my conscience as Zero is practically carried into the bath, so exhausted that Master physically lifts him and settles him down into the water. Zero leans back against the edge, unable or willing to move himself. Master signals me next and helps me step down into the low pool.

“I know you’re exhausted,” Master says, “but you need to help Zero wash.” I bristle at the implication that I would ignore Zero just because I’m tired. “Trust me, you’ll feel more settled after you do.” Then he’s stepping out of the room, leaving Zero and me alone together.

There are rope burns along Zero’s back and bruises on his wrists and ankles. I saw them as he came in, and now the crystal clear water does nothing to disguise them. I know that they probably happened due to a combination of sweat on Zero’s skin and Zero straining against the ropes. I can’t help the guilt that I feel welling inside of me, knowing that I had a hand in this.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly. Zero gives me a sated smile, lethargically stretching his arms over his head. They must be sore from all that time bound behind his back.

“I’m fine,” he says, and there’s nothing in his voice to make me doubt him. “It feels like I fought four rounds and came out on top.”

I don’t like the idea of him comparing sex to something as brutal and violent as fighting, and I frown worriedly at the comparison. He rolls his eyes, a smirk forming on his lips.

“It’s good,” he promises, putting an arm around my shoulders to pull me close. “I feel good.”

“But…” I hesitate, gesturing toward the bruising on his arms. His eyes follow my motion and he lifts his arm out of the water, staring at the scattered bruises like it’s the first time he’s noticed them.

“This is nothing,” he says evenly, letting his arm fall back into the water. “There’s really no way around bindings that rub when you’re suspended and sweating over a significant period of time. This damage is minimal.”

“You shouldn’t have been suspended at all!” I growl, feeling anger surge inside of me. “There’s no excuse for putting you in a situation where you get hurt by…”

“Stop,” Zero says. His voice is quiet, but there’s an intensity to it that takes me by surprise. “I enjoyed what we did. Don’t use your own issues to belittle it.”

“Oh,” I reply softly. I’m such an asshole. “I’m sorry, Zero. I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” he says, his voice still soft with exhaustion, “that you don’t mean it like that, but I’m just too tired for it tonight. Can we drop it?”

“O-of course,” I murmur. “I just… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Are you going to help me wash now?” Zero asks with a sleepy smile. I practically submerge myself stumbling over to get the rag and the mild soap that’s sitting beside the bath. I notice that it’s the same kind that Master uses when Zero has injured himself, and I have to assume that Master was prepared for Zero to have some bruising after our session.

Several minutes later, and I have to admit that Master was right. Zero is clean and mostly asleep. His head is pillowed on his arms, which are laid on the floor surrounding the sunken bath. Helping to wash Zero has calmed me and banished whatever guilt and anxiety I was feeling over Zero’s treatment. I’m so relaxed that I don’t even flinch when Master comes and joins us in the water.

“Asleep already?” he asks, nodding toward Zero.

“Yes, sir,” I respond, moving in front of Zero to block him from Master’s view. After everything tonight, I can’t help the protective surge I feel at the sight of Zero asleep and defenseless in front of Master Zeke. My feelings about what transpired tonight are conflicted, and my feelings about my enigmatic Owner are no less so.

“Let’s get your hair washed,” Master says, missing or ignoring my defensive move, “and then we’ll get you both to bed.”

I sit again, this time facing the rim of the pool, so that Master can pour water over my head. I don’t understand. I wasn’t injured tonight, and I’m perfectly capable of washing my own hair. Why is Master doing this? Why is he acting so normal, while everything I thought I knew feels like it’s turned on its heel? Why did he put me through this? What does he want from me? Uncertainty overwhelms me to the point that I feel tears springing to my eyes. Finally, I can’t hold it in any longer.

“I don’t understand,” I tell him, and I’m ashamed to hear my voice trembling. “What was I supposed to learn from that? What’s the point? Please!” I beg, and my voice cracks, “What good does it do me to learn dominance, when I’m just your fucking slave?”

The words are out before I can catch them, and they crack in the air like a whip. I flinch back, afraid of Master’s reaction, but he entirely ignores my outburst. He grabs a bottle of shampoo before he responds, pouring a drop onto his hand and then running his fingers through my hair.

“This wasn’t about teaching you dominance, Kip,” Master corrects gently, lathering my hair. “The dominance was already there, I just brought it out. This exercise was actually about trust.”

It’s an opening then for me to say that I do trust Zeke, to deny my doubts and extol my loyalty. I can feel the words building in my mouth. – Yes Master. Of course I trust you. I know you’d never hurt me. I know you’re worthy of my trust. – But I say nothing. I’m tired of lying, tired of pretending to be something I’m not. Tired of smiling when I want to cry and tired of pretending all of this, any of this is okay. Tired of pretending I’m okay.

“I’m sorry, Master,” I say quietly. I’m too tired for these games tonight.

“I’m not telling you to trust me,” Master denies offhandedly, tipping my head back and rinsing the lather from my hair. “That’s not what this was about.”

“I don’t understand.”  My hands rub at my eyes in frustration. “Who the hell am I supposed to trust?”

“Don’t trust  _ me _ , Kip,” Master tells me. “Don’t trust Zero. Trust yourself. Trust that you’ll use your instincts for the best. Trust yourself, or you’ll never trust anyone else.”

That catches me by surprise. I mean, I do trust myself… don’t I?

“You’re always belittling or second guessing yourself,” comes Zero’s sleepy voice from across the bath. I look up to find that he’s turned around, reclining in his seat and watching us still with half-lidded eyes. “You’re stronger than you think.”

“I…” I start, but I don’t know what to say to that. With everything that’s happened – with my illness, with being sold and almost killed, with becoming useless as a domestic and unskilled as a pleasure asset – it’s hard to see anything good about myself.

“He’s right, you know,” Master says softly from behind me. He must be finished with my hair, because I feel his hands on my shoulders. “Your determination to protect people you care about is what first attracted me to you. I didn’t expect it to cause so many problems between us, but I have never been any less than impressed by your strength and dedication to caring for others.”

There are tears in my eyes again, and I don’t understand how they got there. Why is it so painful to hear someone say nice things about me? Why is it so hard to believe that someone else might value me, even when I struggle so hard to find the value in myself?

“Your dominance comes from a need to help and protect people,” Master continues. “It doesn’t conflict with your protective instincts, it’s just a channel for them. It’s only when sex is involved that you lose your focus, because you fear sex on a primal level. Zero and I are going to use dominance training to show you that sex isn’t something to be frightened of. That you can enjoy it without fear or guilt.”

“Definitely without guilt,” Zero teases, and there’s a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“Come on,” Master says, guiding me to the edge of the pool. “This is a lot to take in for one night.”

Master helps me out and then Zero as well, guiding us back to the Master bedroom, where all signs of debauchery have been hidden and the bed returned to its usual state. Zero slips under the covers and is immediately dead weight, staying awake only long enough to throw an arm around me. Master chuckles and slips in on my other side.

Surrounded by these two men who mean so much and have done so much for me, my thoughts stray to trust and to love. Can I trust them? One who is so uncertain of his own emotions, the other whose motives are shrouded in mystery and evil? I don’t know.

But could I fall in love with them?

Yes. If I haven’t already.


End file.
